


Sensory Coping Mechanism

by MalikRuttingAssassinAss



Category: Free!
Genre: College, M/M, Roommates
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-11
Updated: 2020-10-11
Packaged: 2021-03-08 03:06:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 27,791
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26958541
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MalikRuttingAssassinAss/pseuds/MalikRuttingAssassinAss
Summary: Second year of college starts with a jarring change of circumstances for Haru. His new roommate isn't who he expects, and he questions his happiness going forward.
Relationships: Nanase Haruka/Tachibana Makoto, Nanase Haruka/Yamazaki Sousuke, Tachibana Makoto/Yamazaki Sousuke
Comments: 15
Kudos: 28





	1. Chapter 1

When the second year of college started, something incredibly peculiar happened. However, when Haru refers to “something”, what he actually means are the series of events which accumulated into his current living circumstances. During the tail end of first year, the student he shared his rented apartment with, whom he never saw due to what Haru would deem perfectly, coincidently, organised timetables where they never really met, dropped out of college. 

Haru wasn’t sure why, nor was it his business to know, and he certainly never got the chance to ask, but his roommate had paid his accommodation in full and so Haru didn’t have to seek a new roommate until his second year started. However, because his roommate dropped out before the end of first year, the advertisement of a free room in the apartment was put up by the landlord, in hopes of raking in more cash by getting another tenant regardless of the previous one already having covered the costs.

That led to plenty of students, businessmen, bachelors, single parents, divorcees coming through in the final weeks of his first year to view the vacant room, a perversion of Haru’s privacy he wasn’t sure he could readily forgive – and so hid away in the art studios to avoid it. At least the landlord was nice enough to let Haru know when and who would be visiting. And any Haru was present for, the landlord would ask him if he thought he could live with them. All of them had been a no.

The apartment was a fair size, the bedrooms were generous too, but it certainly wasn’t somewhere more than two people could comfortably live – not a place for a family. The apartment building was quiet, a sleepy community stacked one on top of the other connected by staircases that frequently smelt like cat piss – not a place for bachelors or businessmen. That left students and divorcees. And no divorcee wanted to live with an 20-year-old, much less one as boring as Haru – who didn’t like partying or drinking to forget his, or anyone else’s, woes.

A flock of students had viewed the apartment, none of them Haru recognised from Iwatobi since most came from Tokyo and the surrounding schools. For some reason, none of the students who viewed the place wanted to live there, and other times the landlord himself rejected their application. 

The landlord was starting to get desperate since the applicants for the room never fit, never seemed interested, or Haru had the gut-twisting anxiety of someone who didn’t seem right.

Haru was beginning to wonder if it was he himself at fault for the empty room, when the Landlord had posted a letter through the apartment door announcing he’d finally found a roommate for him, and that he’d arrive a week before the second year began if Haru approved of his “specs” printed on the next piece of paper.

Either the landlord was trying to be funny, or genuinely believed Haru needed such company, but the first titbit of info had read; 

Tall, dark, handsome, legs for days, James Bond sort of dude.

Haru had been tempted to refuse the application out of spite, but he understood how tight things were getting with the landlord, and so mercifully read on.

Student. 20. Goes to your college, so you can travel together and be adorable or some shit.

Haru had sighed, paced himself, continued reading.

Single (do you see the hints I’m dropping here). Does that swimming shit you do – he said he’s swimming caterpillar or something? He’ll be in second year too, transferred over from medical school, or law school, I can’t remember – so the kid’s smart at least.

Fair enough, Haru had thought. He didn’t get the instant tightness in his stomach triggered by some sort of psychic knowledge of this person, unlike half of the other applicants, so he’d called his landlord and agreed he sounded like a good match, regardless of the rather washy description Haru had been supplied with. 

Despite that, Haru had felt comfortable enough with the applicant to agree, and that had been that.

Haru had returned to Iwatobi to enjoy the break between terms, spending his time with Rei, Nagisa, and Gou, not just Makoto, who must have been sick of pulling him out of the bathtub every morning and ushering him to college. Swimming was a pleasure back in Iwatobi, it felt good, it felt like a treat whilst college was hard swimming, times, lapse, depths, lengths, styles and strokes, power, speed. The pressure was excruciating, but it was the price he had to pay for his dream.

Returning to Tokyo for his second year of college, he’d arrived back at his apartment to find the lights on. Either his landlord had been caring enough to switch them on to welcome him “home”, or…

Haru had completely forgotten about his new roommate moving in the week before the new school year.

Unlocking the door with his key, he’d called out a greeting to his roomie in hopes of starting things on the right foot, also to announce himself so he wouldn’t scare the shit out of them, or walk in on something he wouldn’t want to see.

He takes one look at the looming form of his new roommate as they exit the kitchen to greet him, and drops his bags to the floor. The sound of a canister of tea rolling along the hardwood floor disperses the tense silence, even for but a moment, before the deep, rumbling voice of his roommate casts itself around the room.

“Well, well, well.” The man had a teasing tone in his voice Haru had never been privy to before. “Nanase, I should’ve known it was you from all the mackerel in the freezer.”

And thus, his living arrangements became a co-inhabitancy with a man he’d never really thought about seeing again once his days at High School came to an end.

Yamazaki Sousuke.

During their first night under the same roof, Haru had been kept awake by his rampant anxiety of what the hell was in store for him living with Yamazaki for an entire year. 5 minutes alone during their school days usually resulted in shouting matches, insults, being pinned up against things, and a mutual feeling of extreme awkwardness. Haru didn’t want to spend the next year hauled up in his room avoiding Yamazaki if the nature of their relationship so far continued, it would have to change, lest they both suffer.

The idea of having to go to the effort of befriending Yamazaki was… rendered unnecessary. 

The morning of their first night together, Yamazaki was up early studying in the front room, glasses perched on the end of his nose and his face stuck in a thick textbook. He’d arranged his own breakfast of simple rice and steamed veg, the smell of leeks pungent in the air, and left the rest on the stove to keep warm in case Haru had wanted some too. He had. 

The rice had been cooked to perfection, the vegetables just the right side of steamed, and grilling up some mackerel to put on top had polished off the meal for Haru’s ideal breakfast.

He’d joined Yamazaki in the living room, where he watched the man silently studying away, his breakfast perched in a bowl on his thigh so he could take occasional bites without having to look away from his page. 

“Katsuya said you were studying law, or medicine, before transferring here.” Haru finally deems it a good time to attempt conversation, since the little they’d had last night had been so raw with shock, it’d been hard to consider it conversation at all. 

“Katsuya? Is that the landlord’s name? That guy was talking so much I never got the chance to ask for it.” Yamazaki glances up over the thick frame of his reading glasses and straightens his posture. Haru nods.

“He means well, he’s just old and lonely.” Haru glances down at the Kotatsu table and runs his finger around the ring stain left by a mug of coffee from a previous tenant.

“And horny.” 

Haru swallows his gasp of surprise and spends a moment tucking his hair behind his ear. It’s been a while since he’s been around Nagisa or Kisumi, so the abrupt tone-drop in the conversation takes him by surprise. He supposes he should have expected something like this, since Katsuya seems a bit crude in the sense he firmly believes Haru would “open up more” if he “got laid”. And immediately assumed Haru was gay.

“I mean, he asked a lot of intimate questions.”

“And yet, you still took up his offer on this place.”

Yamazaki shrugs and settles his arms either side of his textbook on the Kotatsu. “I think I can deal with an 80-something-year-old trying to cup a feel for rent this cheap.”

Haru can’t help but chuckle. What he’d expected to be a stiff conversation, or a war of who’d say something first whilst fiercely ignoring each other, turns out to be a pretty easy chat, and Haru’s amazed at himself for finding humour in what Yamazaki says. The man seems so relaxed, comfortable, like the breeze coming in from the open balcony doors behind Haru. Like they’d never had beef in the past.

Haru takes a bite from his breakfast and leans closer to peer at the content of Yamazaki’s textbooks.

It’s a lot of technical terms – in fact, it looks more like a medical journal than a textbook per se. Or it could be an in-depth law book of different regulations – Haru can’t read it clearly from his angle.

“I’m surprised you’re not looking up different properties to rent so you can escape from here. Me.”

Yamazaki pauses. He keeps his gaze fixed onto the pages, but Haru can tell by the static stare of his eyes that he’s given up reading, and is using the book as something to look at whilst he thinks. It’s certainly unfair to bring up their tense relationship with their living together so fresh, but Haru’s desperate to avoid a year’s worth of anxiety at any cost, and ripping off the bandage now gives it sufficient time to heal. Harsh, painful, but quick.

“And I’m surprised you didn’t spend the evening talking to Makoto on how to get rid of me.” Yamazaki flicks a brief look at Haru, before settling his attention back on his textbooks.

“How do you know I wasn’t?”

“Because I was talking to him.” 

Haru blinks, his small mouth gaping in surprise. 

“I wanted to be sure I wouldn’t step on any toes. I shower at night so I knew I wouldn’t interfere with your whole bath routine in the morning, but…” Yamazaki shrugs, sliding a hand beneath his t-shirt collar to rub anxiously at his collarbone. “I guess I want things to work out between us.”

Haru spends a fair amount of time reeling from that. Yamazaki had purposefully called up Haru’s best friend Makoto for advice on how to keep out of Haru’s way, to avoid any awkward confrontations, to keep the peace. Yamazaki had gone out of his way to keep Haru happy. The complete reversal of their previous relationship where they did nothing but avoid each other and snapped at throats otherwise isn’t lost on Haru. Something must have happened for Yamazaki to control his putrid temper from his high school days, and he doubts it has anything to do with just wanting to get along for the sake of living together. It seems too genuine for that.

Haru is too good at spotting a liar, and Yamazaki doesn’t set off red flags or anything. He’s being totally honest.

“Don’t worry, I won’t start hauling your ass out of the bathtub in the morning. Makoto can keep the honours.” Yamazaki chuckles. “I guess if all else fails, I’ll have to drive us to college.”

“You drive?” Haru damns himself. He should’ve made a comment about Yamazaki’s selflessness, thanked him, expressed gratitude of some sort, not waved it off and taken interest in something else. However, Yamazaki doesn’t seem phased, in fact, his expression appears relieved to have the subject changed.

“Yeah. I bought my Aunt’s car off her since she’s too old to safely drive anymore.”

“Oh. What model is it?”

“Jeep Wrangler.” Yamazaki turns the thin paper of his book over, before deciding to stick to his current page. “It’s as old as I am, but she took care of it, so it’s as good as new. She only had it since she lives in the forest and the road to her house is pretty rural. I’m talking free roaming wolves rural.”

Haru hums in surprise. “I never got an answer, by the way.” From the confused look Sousuke gives his textbook, Haru takes that as a request to specify. “What are you studying?”

“You really want to know, huh?”

“It’s polite to answer.”

“Alright, alright.” Yamazaki flashes his perfect grin and winks as he flicks the book shut. “I’m studying to be a police officer. I passed the health screenings and fitness tests, so now I need to buckle down and study the law and face brutal-ass training at The Academy. That’s where all the services train.”

Haru continues to be caught off guard by the man. He finally catches sight of the front cover of the book Yamazaki was reading, and spots the simple gold script reading “Law and Human Rights of Japan”. “How long do you have to study for that?”

“I’ve been studying for a year already, but I want to be hired on as a dog handling officer, so that’s why I’m here to study law and animal care part time whilst I train at The Academy a few miles West of here too.” 

“You’re going to be exhausted.” Haru murmurs, his next mouthful of breakfast stalled between bowl and mouth as Yamazaki’s circumstances sink in. “Both you and Makoto.”

“Why’s that?” Yamazaki enquires.

“He’s training with the fire brigade this year whilst studying part time at college.” Haru glances at the fraction of Yamazaki’s chest he can see from the gaping collar of his shirt, and clears his throat anxiously. “His circumstances are much like yours.”

“Yeah, they are.” Yamazaki collects his books from the Kotatsu and sets them aside to then lean against the table top, pinning his teal gaze on Haru from behind his glasses. “So, what are you studying? Besides swimming.”

“I- uh- I took up culinary arts, since I enjoy cooking. And art. Other than that, there’s basic subjects that everyone takes. I came to this college for the swim team, honestly.” Haru rubs his arm, unable to ease his feeling of discomfort talking about himself for himself – usually Makoto is there to do that for him since he’s never caught by himself in a conversation with someone. He’s well enough left alone most of the time.

“I bet you’re still kicking ass in the pool, too. I heard the relay team won gold at nationals last term.”

Haru shrugs, fidgeting with the string of his hoodie. “Mm.”

“You’re being humble about it, huh. I’ve seen the swim team’s times, they’re something even Olympians hope to achieve. And since Ryugazaki and Hazuki are coming to the college this year, I can imagine they’ll only improve.”

“Life doesn’t revolve around speed, power, times, medals- none of it matters. It’s about having fun and enjoying the water.” Haru frowns. “I don’t like to think of swimming as a career.”

“But I am glad you’re taking it more seriously.” Yamazaki sinks down against the Kotatsu further, cradling his head against his arms. The position hikes up the fabric of Yamazaki’s shirt sleeve, exposing his right shoulder to him and the pink line etched into his skin. A scar. Haru reaches out tentatively, lifting the roll of sleeve to uncover the rest of the marred skin which snakes over Yamazaki’s shoulder and coils the taut skin almost painfully.

“Don’t take it as seriously as I did, though. I’m not a good example.” Yamazaki curls his fingers around the lifted sleeve and pulls it all the way back to his collar, presenting Haru with the aftermath of his mistake. “Three surgeries in as many weeks to fix it, a whole lifetime to regret it.”

“Can you swim again?” Haru asks.

“Yeah.” The answer doesn’t sound like a solid confirmation. Haru hears alarm bells as he studies the way the man in front of him glances off towards the balcony doors again. “I’ll never be on the big stage with you and Rin, but I can enjoy a leisurely swim.”

The red flags lower, Haru can concentrate once again on their conversation, rather than the half lie he’d been told.

“Does it hurt?”

“Nah, thanks to the surgery I have full mobility again. The thing is, I could go back into competitive swimming, but … the idea of it doesn’t appeal anymore. Who does it help swimming back and forth in a pool? What difference am I making, you know?”

“That’s certainly a selfless way to look at things.” Haru sweeps his other hand back through his hair, pushing it from his face momentarily. “Rin swims for his Dad’s memory, that’s different, that’s his way of honouring the dream his father couldn’t.”

“I swam because I wanted to swim with Rin, because I wanted to stand on the world stage with him.” Yamazaki scoffs at himself, shrugging the very idea off. “It was a competition, not a pleasure.”

“And I swim to cope.” Haru shrugs his shoulders. “Sensory coping mechanism, I think the school counsellor called it. It’s not about winning, it’s about getting from one day to the next.”

Yamazaki finally takes his turn to be surprised. He stares for a moment, before he’s sliding off his glasses and rubbing at the pressure marks the nose pads left behind. “Well, now I feel like a total jackass for pressuring you so badly in school. I never thought of it that way – I just thought you were a smug asshole too good to swim with the rest of us.”

“It’s hard being a mermaid on dry land.” Haru jokes awkwardly, but relief rushes him as Yamazaki sits up with a chuckle, as if actually amused. 

“I’m glad we cleared the air, Nanase. It’s been a long time coming.” Yamazaki says with a smile. “But if you could kindly stop touching up my scar-”

“Ah-” He hadn’t been aware he was still touching it. He withdraws so quickly he upsets his bowl of breakfast and steadies it before he loses more than just a few grains of sticky rice.

“Hey, it’s alright.” Yamazaki is laughing at him, Haru forces down his embarrassment and shoves his clenched fists against the top of his thighs. “It’s a weird sensation, right? That’s what you were talking about before with sensory coping mechanisms.” 

“Uh…” Haru isn’t sure how to agree without coming clean about enjoying the feel of Yamazaki’s two skin textures, and the hardness of muscle beneath. Instead, he stares down at his breakfast and picks the bones from his mackerel.


	2. Chapter 2

Whilst Haru still has a few days before his first class starts for the year, and thus avoids having to leave the apartment other than leisurely trips to the public swimming pool, Yamazaki leaves to attend police academy, which sounds more like an army boot camp and doesn’t run on the same term schedule as the local colleges. That’s a double edge sword for Yamazaki, since the man can still attend college during his downtime, but that also means Yamazaki doesn’t get a single damn day off for the foreseeable future.

Haru has only been living with Yamazaki for a few days, but he can see from the moment Yamazaki steps into the apartment after his third day of police academy and college, that the man is bone-deep exhausted. He doesn’t bother asking how it was, he can see from the drooping of his eyelids and his furrowed brow that it was either so much fun he tuckered himself out, or the hardest he’d worked, like, ever. He’d foreseen this happening, predicted Yamazaki would come home, kick off his shoes, and slump face-first on the Kotatsu to warm his legs beneath it and had cooked dinner especially.

Haru wonders if Yamazaki is either too tired to go to his bedroom, or is happy to spend his last remnants of energy in Haru’s company. Both. Probably both.

He leaves Yamazaki to doze against the table whilst he shuffles off to the kitchen and starts to bring out what he’d prepared for dinner. A mackerel dish, of course, since he knew Yamazaki would be too tired to give a shit after his long day.

It’s hard to tell whether he’s even still conscious by the time Haru has finished quietly and carefully arranging the dishes on the Kotatsu around Yamazaki’s slumped form, so he resorts to gently placing his hand upon Yamazaki’s arm and squeezing.

“Mm.”

“Have dinner with me, then you can go to sleep.”

“Now?” Yamazaki grumbles into his arms.

“Sit up.” Haru urges, sliding his hands to Yamazaki’s shoulders and pressing into them until the larger man groans and does as he’s told with a yawn.

“Oh holy shit.” Yamazaki scrubs his eyes and looks at the table again. “Where did all this come from?”

Haru ignores him in favour of shoving a pair of chopsticks into his hands so he can finally start eating. Haru had waited long enough for Yamazaki to return home and he’s beyond starving by this point and yet he wonders why he’d bothered to wait. Their relationship rides on the fact they have to live under the same roof until the end of the year, or until they kill each other, it isn’t something where cooking for one another, taking turns with the laundry, and ensuring the stray cats who occasionally appear on the balcony are fed, is deemed necessary.

But, Haru wants to. There’s something about watching the domestic life of Yamazaki Sousuke that intrigues Haru. The whale shark pattern pyjama bottoms he’s sure he’s seen on Etsy, the sleep ruffled hair, the odd quirk Yamazaki has where he lifts his shirt to rest against his cheek like a blanket when he’s too tired to notice. The snail trail littered down hard, powerful muscles which peek through the gap during said odd quirk, the rumble of his voice, the subtle shake of weakness in his right hand when he pours himself tea or coffee first thing in the morning.

3 days in and Haru’s already noticed so much. Once loathed, he’s now surprisingly excited to face the rest of the year with this man and enjoy every second of it – wait.

Haru grimaces at his internal monologue, prompting Yamazaki to glance down at himself to find out just what made his roommate pull such a face.

“Sorry,”

Haru raises his head towards the man, feeling confusion and guilt seep into him for making Yamazaki feel self-conscious about something or other.

“I didn’t get a chance to shower before coming home. I stink, right?”

Honestly, Haru hasn’t been paying attention to the smell in the air since it’s still pungent with the stench of smoked mackerel and onion. If Yamazaki stinks, then Haru hasn’t noticed it.

“You’re fine.” He explains calmly. “I can’t smell anything, and even if I could, I’d probably just drag you off to the bath and scrub you myself.”

“Is that so?” Yamazaki has adopted the gentle teasing tone again that doesn’t just annoy Haru, it downright confuses him. It’s a tone he’s heard Yamazaki use with Rin, but whenever Haru had been audience to it, he’d been convinced Yamazaki was attempting to flirt with Rin, something he doubts mirrors his use of the tone now. Then again, Rin had disappeared off to Australia, and Yamazaki isn’t an unattractive man, so Haru has to wonder if it really was flirtation at all considering the two never started dating.

Not that Haru feels the need to drop his boxers around Yamazaki and his sultry teasing, but still.

“Maybe I’ll douse you with cold water instead.”

“Ooh, that a promise?”

Haru rolls his eyes up to the ceiling and makes an attempt at getting Yamazaki to shut up and eat by pinching some mackerel between his sticks and presenting it to the man’s mouth, his hand cupped just beneath it to avoid dumping it all in his lap.

“Eat.”

“Or what?”

“You’re being difficult.”

Yamazaki flashes his perfect teeth as he chuckles at Haru’s expense – he’s not entirely sure why he notices his teeth, however since Haru’s never seen teeth as naturally perfect as Yamazaki’s before, he reassures himself with that explanation.

He pitches his chopsticks forward and finally gets the man to part his teeth to eat the pinch of mackerel, rice, and fried onion. Yamazaki hums in bliss, chews his way through his mouthful, and swallows audibly. Haru watches his Adams apple bob since he’s close enough now, and finally begins to notice the stains on Yamazaki’s skin. It takes a moment, but he eventually identifies them as bruises hidden beneath the fabric of his tank top. There’s a graze along the jut of his collarbone too, and Haru instantly frets, wondering who or what could have done this to the man.

“Training was brutal today.” Yamazaki explains as he finally picks up his bowl of food and eats. “We practiced disarming and restraining. Seijuro-senpai was training us today-”

“Seijuro- the old Samezuka captain?” Haru blinks.

“Yeah, he was there, it was weird seeing him again.” Yamazaki glances over, then down to the smattering of bruises within view of his sagging tank top collar. “Seijuro-senpai and I paired up but- uh- I don’t think he knows his own strength.”

“He was trying to test you, I bet.” Haru hums, stirring his rice with his chopsticks. “With the way he throws Momo down, I’d imagine it was on purpose. Some sort of competition.”

“Well if it was a dick measuring contest he’s got me beat there.” Yamazaki scratches behind his ear and shrugs. “After that training session, I feel like a shrivelled old man’s penis.”

Haru tries to stop himself from laughing and ends up choking on a grain of rice, hiding his smile behind his hand.

“What? I didn’t say I have one, I said I feel like one.” Yamazaki snickers, relaxing back against the wall the Kotatsu is stood close to. “I mean, I say that, but Seijuro did kick me in the nards, so I do wonder.”

Haru has to push his food away and cover his mouth since he’s doubled over laughing. He can barely catch his breath, the prickling of tears coming to his eyes and he can’t help but feel refreshed, relieved, happy he’s able to laugh, even if it’s at Yamazaki’s expense. His sense of humour is questionable whilst previously non-existent, it’s a surprise to say the least, a surprise Haru is glad to have stumbled upon.

“Why did he kick you there?” Haru manages to choke out, peering up from behind his hands clasped over his face.

“He was holding a public class afterward concerning women’s self-defence.” Yamazaki pushes his hair back out of his face, slowly chewing through some rice and utterly unconcerned about speaking with his mouth full.

“Let me guess, it involved going for the…”

“Balls, yes.”

Haru observes the hand Yamazaki sneaks between his legs to adjust himself, and the wince of tenderised flesh.

“I was allowed to wear a cup, but when a man like Mikoshiba Seijuro roundhouse-kicks you in the delicates, the cup tends to become a hazard itself. I’m almost certain he kicked a hole through the damn thing.”

“The cup?”

Yamazaki snorts and nods. “Yes, Nanase, the cup.”

They finish dinner in a comfortable silence after that. Haru washes the dishes whilst Yamazaki dries them, and Haru appreciates his effort regardless of how bad it is in his exhaustion. When Yamazaki shuffles off in his half-waddle to the bathroom to shower and settle down for the night, Haru goes back to dry off the dishes properly and set out food on the balcony for the cats.

It takes a while for him to find the motivation to move his study supplies and textbooks back to his bedroom since he’s sure Yamazaki will end up studying on the Kotatsu first thing in the morning and doesn’t want their stuff getting muddled up.

There’s a drastic difference between Haru’s sketchbooks and Yamazaki’s law journals, but still, cluttering up the place isn’t Haru’s style and he prays it isn’t Yamazaki’s either. Inundated with his sketchbooks and drawing utensils, he makes his way down the main hallway. Their bedrooms face opposite each other, and further on down the hall, just before the hallway opens into the utility room, is the bathroom.

Which is open.

And very much occupied.

Haru diverts his gaze to the ceiling as he bumps open his bedroom door and hurries to his desk to put down his armful of stuff. A pencil rolls lazily off the surface and drops to the floor, illuminated in the darkness by the light streaming from the bathroom, through the hallway, and into Haru’s bedroom. The hiss from the shower drowns out any common sense Haru has, drawing him to prowl forward and press his hand against the doorframe of his bedroom to peek.

He’s stupid for doing this, he tells himself as he absorbs the sight of Yamazaki sat on the bathing stool with his head hung and water draining down his back. He’s stupid for counting the bruises down his ribs, for studying the scar of his shoulder surgery, for worrying over the tremor of his right hand holding the shower head to his neck.

Yamazaki isn’t any good at taking care of himself. He’s a self-sacrificing prick, according to Rin, and none of what Haru has seen until this point contradicts that view. It isn’t Yamazaki’s fault he has no sense of self-preservation – he’s more like Makoto than Haru ever realised in a sense that he’s ready and willing to push away his own livelihood to keep his best friend happy. Yamazaki just has an… interesting personality to go with it.

It’s clear Yamazaki barely has the energy to wash himself properly, and if he thinks sitting under the shower spray for 10 minutes is an effective hygiene routine, then he’s to be sorely mistaken. Haru doesn’t want to be knocked out by his stench in the morning, never mind him assuring Yamazaki it wouldn’t bother him because it will.

Shedding his sweater and house slippers, he hangs his sweater on the doorknob and enters the bathroom with the bravado of a much braver man, considering he doesn’t have a single shred.

“Hey,”

“Mm.” Yamazaki lifts his face from his hand and glances back over his shoulder, deflecting the spray of the shower away from his visitor. “Sorry, I’ll be out in a minute.”

“Are you getting sick?” Haru takes the sponge and soap from the small plastic cabinet by the bath and ducks it into the shower spray to moisten. “Or did you underestimate how hard the Police Academy were going to push you?”

“That one.” Yamazaki yawns before going back to watching Haru lathering up the sponge. “It’s all about thinning out the numbers at the moment. Just today we had 20 recruits drop out. That’s half my regiment gone already.”

“Are you sure you signed up for Police Academy? It sounds like the Navy.” Haru asks as he nervously places a hand on Yamazaki’s broad shoulder, a gentle warning he’s about to start scrubbing him, before he presses the sponge to his tan skin.

“I do wonder.” Yamazaki murmurs. “Top Dog, our Instructor, is ex-marine, so if that puts it in perspective for you…”

“It does.” He curves the sponge over the back of Yamazaki’s neck in tight circles, making sure to glance his bruises and grazes as softly as he can.

“The Service Academy is the main campus, which includes Police, Fire, Disaster Relief, Bomb Squad, National Guard, Paramedics, and Junior Army Cadets. I get to see a lot of different shit going down on the same campus. The Fire trainees are especially fun to watch since most of them are so lithe the kick-back from the fire truck hose knocks them on their asses.”

“Even Makoto?” Haru enquires.

“Nah, he can handle the hose. One of the very few that can. Must be those back muscles of his.” Yamazaki tilts his head to the side and hums in bliss as Haru scrubs the sponge down his back slowly, methodically. “Mm, balls of steel that Tachibana. The Fire guys were running real-life scenarios today in the simulation studios. They pumped the place with smoke, cranked up the heat, and set controlled fires. Each student had to search for a victim and bring them out in a set time, problem was, the instructors set a door on fire. Tachibana didn’t so much as hesitate.”

Haru blinks, squeezing the contents of the sponge over freshly scrubbed flesh. “Makoto had a burn on his wrist, is that what caused it?”

“No idea.” Yamazaki shrugs. “I know it worries you, but you should accept things like this will happen eventually, whether that be in training, or during active service. We’re always going to be risking our lives.”

It isn’t something Haru wants to hear, and he understands he has to accept it, but he doesn’t have to like it either. He’s scared to death for Makoto, and whilst he gets to see him on a daily basis, first thing in the morning, hanging over his bathtub with a towel and a friendly face, Haru feels like there’s this separate life he has no clue about. Makoto doesn’t tell him because he knows how worried Haru gets, but Yamazaki doesn’t know, he isn’t privy to the conversations, the arguments briefly thrown around about the Fire Service Makoto has dedicated himself to. Haru feels like he’s cheating since Makoto doesn’t share his stories of his training, however, listening to Yamazaki casually remarking on it eases his aching concern.

“Tachibana and I talk a lot at the Academy.” The larger man trails off, rolling his shoulders under the hot stream. He appears to be finished talking, just as Haru has finished scrubbing what he can of Yamazaki’s back, and doesn’t really know how to ask the man if he can continue washing the front. It’s not particularly decent of him to want to, but Yamazaki looks like he’s about to nod off on the stool, and it’s only the conversation keeping him awake by this point. Haru feels sorry for him.

“I’m glad he has a friend at Academy.” Haru steps back and glances at Yamazaki’s reflection in the mirror where he gains eye contact. It’s likely Yamazaki has been staring at him the whole time, but Haru forces that thought away and tries to relay the fact that he needs the man to turn around to get to the rest of his body.

Needs. Haru grimaces at himself again.

“I wouldn’t go that far.” Yamazaki catches on and turns around on the stool, his bare ass squeaking against the sturdy plastic seat beneath him that’s almost too comical for this tense situation. “I don’t make friends easily, you should know.”

“You can’t not make friends with Makoto. That’s like kicking a puppy.” Haru tries to divert his gaze since Yamazaki is utterly unfazed about presenting his entirety to him, but he can’t help glancing between the two powerfully built thighs. He tells himself it’s to check how bad the bruising is, and he makes a real attempt at believing it…

“I guess I can put the effort in.” Yamazaki leans back on the counter behind him and sighs, unabashed in his nudity and allowing Haru to scrub the sponge back and forth across his collarbone and over his pecs. The hard muscle beneath the skin is pretty amazing, Haru instantly wants to immortalise it in a marble sculpture, carve his cleavage into the flat surface and curve it perfectly to his defined shape, but what kind of art student can afford marble nowadays?

“Anyway, Makoto is everyone’s friend. It’s not your decision.” Haru lifts Yamazaki’s left arm, supporting it at the elbow as he starts up near the shoulder and works his way down to the fingertips. Globs of suds fall to the bathroom floor, some a darker colour than others since Yamazaki seems to have rolled in shit at some point during the day like a misbehaving dog. Haru swears Yamazaki hunches in his shoulders just to push his pecs together on purpose to distract him, tease him, something.

“He’s certainly popular. Then again, that’s what happens when an angel walks amongst humans. They tend to stand out and attract hordes of people seeking retribution.”

“What the hell are you talking about?” Haru snorts.

“I’m just saying Tachibana is too good, too pure – I’m tired, man, don’t ask me to explain.”

“Lazy.” Tapping his fingers lightly under Yamazaki’s chin, he drags the sponge up the length of his neck and concentrates on a dark mark just under his jawline before realising it’s a bruise and apologising softly.

Yamazaki hums, tilts his head to the side, and flicks this mischievous little grin up at Haru, regardless of his shameless state of undress.

“What about you? Do I have to put the effort in to be your friend? Or do you wash anyone too tired to do it themselves?”

Haru rolls his eyes as he picks up the showerhead from resting on Yamazaki’s thigh and washes off the soap, the grey suds slide off his body, catching occasionally on the dark hair on his arms and legs. Lacking any real reason to shave it, due to his swimming career being over, his dark hair has grown to speckle over a large percentage of his body. Whilst not overwhelming, it’s certainly a sharp reminder that Yamazaki doesn’t swim competitively anymore, and doesn’t need to adhere to strict body management.

That certainly doesn’t mean Yamazaki has let himself go, if anything, Haru thinks Yamazaki’s physique has improved. It’s a body made for taking hits, sprinting long distances, wrestling criminals to the ground and pinning them. It’s a body refined to the point of perfection. He can only dream of having a body like Yamazaki Sousuke’s. Well, Haru reconsiders, that much muscle on someone of his height might look plain weird.

“Arms up.” Haru grumbles instead and, carelessly, yanks Yamazaki’s right arm up in a display of annoyance. All the muscles and tendons in the arm lock suddenly, the thick wrist in Haru’s hand snatches away, throwing Haru’s hand out to the side in the quick gesture, and the outright sultry smirk disappears from Yamazaki’s face.

Shit.

Haru feels his insides try to eject themselves from his chest all at once. He’d hurt Yamazaki. He can’t fathom it in the short seconds after the act, can’t force himself to move away since he’s positive Yamazaki is seconds away from raining down on him like a waterfall of shit. He doubts he’d dare to struggle if the man wanted to pin him down and try to cuff him like a criminal – Haru swallows thickly at the thought.

“Nanase.”

Haru shakes himself from his thoughts, lips cracking open to utter an apology, beg for forgiveness, say anything to ease the tension thick as a brick in the air.

“Hey.” A hand waves in front of Haru’s face, he notices it, it’s pretty hard not to, but he’s already deeply settled into his panic mode. He wants to say so much, check Yamazaki is okay, tend to him if he isn’t, and yet he can’t move, he can’t pull himself free of the turmoil churning away that he hurt Yamazaki, watched pain streak across his face- he did that.

He feels his hand being taken by another, the rough callouses tell him it’s Yamazaki’s – who else? The pull on his wrist brings his hand over- where it touches the gnarled, silvery flesh of a scar on Yamazaki’s shoulder. The silky sensation contradicts the wet drag of dampened skin, sending a wave of intrigue over Haru, which muffles the brunt of his peeked panic. It’s at this moment he realises his chest is straining, sucking in tight, sharp breaths, and tears are obscuring his vision.

He’s having a panic attack over Yamazaki, and this time it isn’t because he was pinned against something by the larger man.

“It feels different, doesn’t it?” The raven haired trainee cop utters over the white noise hush of the shower head which had clattered to the floor earlier. Haru’s mouth remains agape, useless. Yamazaki places his hand over Haru’s against his shoulder and leans closer. “Close your eyes and tell me how long you think my scar is.”

He’s hesitant to comply since he’s sure the tears will streak down his face if he dares to blink. Eventually he squeezes them shut, and low and behold, tears drip from his lashes and disappear into the puddles on the tiles below. His fingers idle at one edge of the large scar, he paces himself, before he begins to trace it across, slow, steady. Haru counts what he guesses are centimetres in his head as he drags his fingertip along the scar tissue. His thumb strokes along the healthy skin beneath it, comparing the two different textures, and in that moment, he has to wonder how the scar of Yamazaki’s surgery became so distorted.

Infection is the first thing he considers, but it just as easily could have been the surgeon’s competency, or the complicated tear of Yamazaki’s rotator cuff.

He reaches the other side of the scar and opens his eyes to be greeted by brilliant teal ones staring right back at him.

“Seven?”

Yamazaki smiles and nods. “And a half, but I might just be bragging.” The larger man tilts his head and glances down at his state of undress, before deciding he still doesn’t care.

“Why did you do that?” Haru’s fingers twitch against Yamazaki’s scar, drawing their attention back to what just happened.

“You said the sensation of touch helps you cope.” Yamazaki shrugs his other shoulder, probably to not confuse an all-out shrug with trying to get Haru’s hand off, since Haru’s is too floored by Yamazaki’s selflessness to budge on his own. “Seeing as you enjoyed my scar so much, I thought it would be easier than carrying you off to the pool to get you the sensory coping mechanism thing you needed.”

“You…” Haru shakes his head, his small lips working like a landed mackerel, gaping, useless.

“I scared you, right?”

“I-…” Nothing, his mind is blank, blown over by the kindness and consideration from a once selfish and unbearable brute.

“I’m sorry.” Yamazaki sighs. “I’m still adjusting to having full mobility back, so whenever I overexert my shoulder, my kneejerk reaction is to flinch, even if there’s no real pain. You didn’t hurt me, honest.”

“I didn’t?” Haru murmurs as he bends to pick up the sponge and shower head. “Oh.”

“Why do you sound so disappointed by it? You little shit.” Yamazaki reaches forward and ruffles Haru’s hair with his wet hand, deliberately messing up his perfectly kept, low maintenance style with his large fingers.

“Yamazaki.” Haru grouches. “You can finish cleaning yourself then.”

“Seriously? I was almost looking forward to you cleaning lower.”

“Ugh, you sound like Kisumi.” He dumps the sponge into Yamazaki’s lap and turns away with the flick of his ruffled hair. “It’s Saturday tomorrow, so you can get a lie-in, right?”

“I can indeed.” Yamazaki tosses his head back as he wets his hair under the shower spray whilst Haru does his utmost to not watch him in the mirror by the door but by god it’s happening anyway. “Do you have plans?”

“Makoto said he’s coming over early since his roommate’s got relatives coming for a visit.” Haru curls his fingers around his ear, tucking away his hair and trying to look like he’s not watching even as he turns back towards Yamazaki. The man’s scrubbing his hair with shampoo, one eye cracked open to maintain a visual on Haru whilst he cleans himself. He quickly distracts himself by putting on his sweater and praying for strength.

“You should’ve mentioned sooner. I would’ve picked up some sweet stuff on the way home.”

“You would’ve fallen asleep at the wheel if you hadn’t come home when you did.” Haru reprimands. “Besides, I was only informed of Makoto’s plans whilst you were on your way home.”

“I guess it keeps Tachibana from developing diabetes for the time being.” Yamazaki tilts his head back again and washes the shampoo from his hair and off his face, whilst Haru shamelessly watches the rivulets of water cascade down the front of Yamazaki’s body, over plains of skin and muscle, meandering to the snail trail of dark hair leading to Yamazaki’s-…

Haru swallows thickly and hugs his arms tucked inside the sleeves of his sweater to his chest. He’s almost certain he shouldn’t be watching since his reason to be in here has since taken over his task of washing himself, and that’s that. He should go. Now. Right now.

“Thanks for the help, Nanase.” The silence which envelopes the bathroom once Yamazaki shuts off the shower is deafening. The occasional drip only makes things worse for Haru, since it’s at an offbeat rhythm that manages to annoy him and the fact that it annoys him only annoys him more.

The vicious cycle is stilled when Yamazaki stands from the stool and grabs a towel, only now considering Haru’s discomfort and covering himself up.

“You’re welcome.” Haru nods and turns towards the door to leave when he feels Yamazaki’s hand fall upon his shoulder. He locks up, freezing to the spot and anxiously digging his fingers into the doorframe as if bracing himself for the worse.

“Listen, Nan-… Haru.”

He turns quickly, his eyes go wide at the use of his given name for the first time since the Samezuka festival in their high school days. His lips part again, but this time he’s willing to let Yamazaki speak first since he still can’t find the words himself.

“If I ever do anything to make you react like that again, tell me.” Yamazaki shifts, glancing off into the darkness over Haru’s shoulder as he awkwardly projects his words. “You suffered a panic attack because of me, because you thought you hurt me. I don’t know if you were panicking because you feared what I’d do to you, or what you thought you did to me, but … yeah… I want to help you.”

“I’m sorry you had to see it.” Haru finally sighs. “Um… you helped me.” He slides the sleeves of his sweater back down over his hands and moves outside of the bathroom to step into his house slippers again. “Thanks for that. I really appreciate it.”

“No problem.” Yamazaki grimaces and scratches at the water trickling behind his ear. “Sleep well, man.”

“You too, Sousuke.” He offers a small, gentle smile, and crosses the hallway to his bedroom. “Don’t forget that Makoto will be around in the morning. You can’t walk around naked. He’ll probably faint.” With a subtle wave, he pushes the bedroom door shut and just about hears the muffled voice of Yamazaki very much considering doing the opposite of what Haru said just for kicks.

Brat, Haru thinks fondly.


	3. Chapter 3

Makoto finds him in the bathtub the next morning, per the usual routine. However, it being a weekend, he doesn’t insist on dragging Haru from his watery bliss the second they lay eyes on each other, and instead sits on the floor by the tub for an only mildly awkward morning chat.

Haru tilts his head to lean on the lip of the tub and stares down at the bandage wrapped around Makoto’s wrist, watching as Makoto makes lively gestures with his hands as he describes his morning escape from his roommate’s parents. The knot in Haru’s stomach intensifies at the sight of the bandage, his fingers itch to reach forward and bring Makoto’s large hand to his lips to kiss it better, but neither of them are young enough to cast aside the implications behind the action, much less the ever-romantic Makoto.

“And just before I managed to get out the door, I heard her Mom asking “whose bra is this?” and I was like; I can’t leave her in this mess. I told them it was my girlfriend’s, apologised, and ran.” The large backstroke swimmer sighs and rakes a hand through his hair. “It was jarring enough to see her have to revert to her assigned gender since her parents don’t have a clue about the transition. I felt bad for her. I guess she knows her parents better than anyone else, but does she really have to hide it from them? Shouldn’t they love and understand their child no matter what?” Makoto looks torn as he hugs his knees to his chest, fretting over his roommate’s situation like it’s any of his business.

Haru doesn’t want to say it isn’t, since Makoto is the most selfless human being he’s ever seen, but sometimes he wishes Makoto would worry about himself a little more, be a bit selfish, take care of himself.

Asking that of a trainee fireman is probably a silly request.

“Parents can be assholes.” Haru mumbles in response. He’s never met Makoto’s roommate, and whilst she sounds like a lovely person, it’s definitely not his business to feel anything for her since Makoto seems to have that covered. It’s platonic, even Haru can see that, but the point remains.

“Yeah, I guess you’re right.” Makoto laughs softly. “She’ll be fine. Anyway, how are you doing? Are you and Sousuke-kun still settling in or have you started fighting already?”

“It’s been peaceful.” Haru sinks further into the water until his chin touches the surface and his knees peek out. “I think he’s been too tired to argue.”

“I’m not surprised.”

“Is it really that bad?”

Makoto nods. “I saw Sousuke-kun training at the academy yesterday. I thought we had it bad, but the Police? We were having an unloading and loading exercise of the fire truck outside when all the Police cadets came out and were lined up on the test track.”

Haru blinks, eyebrows raising expectantly.

“We call it the test track since most of the services require rigorous vehicle training. Anyway, we’re taking a break whilst the instructor inspects the fire truck when we hear screaming and shouting coming from the Police cadets.”

“What happened?”

“Well, at first we weren’t sure. Some of us thought the Police cadets had messed up and were getting punished, but, like, the whole squadron was being subjected to abuse one by one. Finally, our instructor noticed our concern, and explained it was a training exercise.” Makoto shrugs. “Apparently, they spring this sort of thing on the Police cadets so they don’t have time to prepare.”

“This sort of thing?”

“Stress Resilience Training. They were plain clothed instructors who shouted and screamed in the cadets faces, pushed them, threw stuff at them, spat at them.” Makoto glances up from the bathroom floor and chuckles anxiously. “It was really scary to watch.”

Haru hunches his shoulders up and covers his eyes with his hand to avoid watching the goosebumps breaking out over his skin. It sounds terrible, Haru can’t imagine being subjected to that sort of immersion training and coming out of it unscathed. He can only see himself crumbling in front of the instructor and running away.

“I don’t know if it’s a case of personal connection with Sousuke-kun, or if the instructors went particularly hard on him. He got the same as everyone else, but the instructor tried to take the training prop gun from Sousuke-kun’s belt and he had to disarm and restrain.” Makoto suddenly appears very worried, pinching his lips with his fingers and glancing towards the closed bathroom door.

“He’s fine, you know?” Haru sits up properly again, agitating the once still surface of the water to get a better look at Makoto sat between the side of the bath and the door of the toilet room. “He came home tired and I took care of him. You don’t need to worry.”

Makoto quickly stares up at Haru, his green eyes bright with awe. “You mean, you two actually talk?”

“Yes.” Haru drapes his arms over the side of the tub and leans his cheek on the back of his hands. “Like I said, it’s peaceful.”

“I’m not complaining, I’m just surprised. You two were never on good terms, especially in middle school after Rin left.”

“I don’t think either of us cares about that anymore.” Haru sighs and lets his eyes drift shut. “I didn’t from the start.”

“That was half the problem, Haru.” Makoto smiles patiently and stands up from his place on the floor. “Come on, I think I hear Sousuke-kun in the kitchen.” He rolls up his flannel shirt sleeve and extends his hand as he always does first thing in the morning. Haru reaches back and takes a firm grip, before being pulled from the tub in one strong, stable yank.

Yamazaki is standing over the stove when Haru and Makoto finally go to meet him. Haru had been disgruntled over throwing out one of his many duplicate swimsuits having a hole in the crotch, and Makoto had spent a lot of energy explaining why it wasn’t decent of Haru to still wear it during swim meets.

Haru still doesn’t understand since no one should be staring at his crotch anyway, but he’d eventually given in and let Makoto take it to throw it out, since Makoto was probably right in thinking Haru would raid his trash just to get it back.

“Good morning, Sousuke-ku-…”

Haru sighs, exasperated at the sight of Yamazaki shirtless in their kitchen preparing what appears to be a mackerel based breakfast. Haru instantly forgives his half nakedness for the sake of mackerel since there’s very little he wouldn’t forgive for his favourite fish. Especially in the case of Yamazaki’s mackerel dishes when he grills the fish in this herb mix he’s deliberately keeping a secret from Haru. It’s probably his family’s secret recipe, or it contains poison.

“Hey, Tachibana.” Yamazaki throws over his shoulder. “No weekend classes for you either, huh?”

“Uh-um- Good morning, Sousuke-kun.” Makoto stammers and manages to belly his embarrassment as he heads on over to the larger man in the kitchen and peers down to what’s cooking in the skillet. “No, I’ve managed to avoid any extra curricular activities for the moment since most first years are only set 3 days a week.”

“3 days? Lucky.” Sousuke grumbles.

“Oh yeah, you guys are in for 4 days right? Where do you fit in all your studying?”

Haru sits by the Kotatsu and watches the two larger men talking about a life Haru has absolutely no privy to. It’s fascinating hearing the titbits of this wonderland called “The Academy”, the hardships of the different services in training there, the scenarios they’re all thrown into, and the injuries both Makoto and Yamazaki return home with as a result.

“I usually cram in the morning and evening. I try to keep Sundays free for myself, but…” Yamazaki clears his throat as he shrugs. “It’s not always that easy.”

Whilst Makoto enquires further, Haru instantly frets. Sundays for himself? Why can’t Yamazaki have Sundays for himself? Is he in the way? Haru instinctively reaches for the collar of sweatshirt and brings it to his mouth to anxiously rub his lips against. Maybe he should try to find a way to give Yamazaki space on a Sunday – tomorrow.

“Being a short drive from my Dad’s workshop, I tend to get roped in on the heavy lifting since the old man’s mobility is getting worse.”

Haru feels himself deflate. He doesn’t realise he’s been chewing on his sweater collar until Makoto turns around at the sound of him breathing out stiffly and gives him a concerned smile. Makoto understands, his lips mouth “not you” as he shakes his head.

“But, that’s what he gets when he refuses to invest in machines to lift engines out of cars and does it himself for 20 odd years.” The sizzle of a fillet being turned over crackles over the small partition separating the kitchen from the living area, unleashing the scent of cooking mackerel. “He’s only 37, too.”

“Wow, so your parents had you pretty young. Same with Haru and I, actually.” Makoto leans back against the counter to avoid having his back to either Yamazaki or Haru.

“Is that so? I guess there isn’t much else to do in Iwatobi other than-”

“Yamazaki, don’t be gross.” Haru snaps.

“Settle down, I was gonna say.” Yamazaki turns away from the stove and starts to plate up breakfast whilst Makoto busies himself with putting the side dishes into bowls. “Well, I was an accident involving a faulty condom, but-.”

“Sousuke-kun!” Makoto gasps.

“I can’t wait for your parents to visit.” Haru sprawls against the Kotatsu and keeps an eye open to watch how Makoto tries to compose himself and his flushed cheeks. “I’m sure they’ll be happy to learn you’ve been bragging about being a mistake.”

“Dad tells everyone at every family occasion, so he might just beat you to it, man.”

“Oh my god.” Makoto disappears behind his hands this time and looks close to sobbing when Yamazaki picks up their plates of food and nudges him on the way past.

“You’re a virtuous one, aren’t you?” Yamazaki chuckles as he rounds the partition counter and brings the food over to the Kotatsu where Haru is just about ready to chew through his sweater sleeve. “Hey, quit it, that’s mine.”

Haru stills suddenly before glancing down to himself. Sure enough, the hooded sweater he’d blindly pulled out of his wardrobe that morning sports The Academy’s insignia on the breast, and from the time he’s seen Yamazaki wear it, he knows POLICE is emblazoned across the back. Instinctively, he glances over to Makoto for his reaction, and immediately wishes he hadn’t.

Are you two..?

No!

The raven-haired man is none the wiser to their telepathic conversation crossing over the living room above his head as he finishes placing the food on the Kotatsu and sinks down to sit with Haru.

“Sorry, I must’ve mixed up our laundry. I’ll wash it and return it-”

Yamazaki reaches out just as Haru goes to stand, placing a hand on his shoulder and quickly swallowing his mouthful. “It’s alright. Promise. It looks better on you anyway- my arms are too long for it.”

Makoto sits opposite Haru, next to Yamazaki, but his eyes settle firmly on the ex-butterfly swimmer beside him as if he’s just walked off a spaceship. Haru is sure to kick him under the Kotatsu before Yamazaki takes notice.

“Okay.” Haru croaks to cover the sound of Makoto grunting in pain.

“So, Tachibana-”

“Please, call me Makoto.”

Haru glances back at his best friend who is beyond flustered by this point. It looks pretty incriminating, Haru will admit, what with the apparent truce, the shirtless Yamazaki, and the sweater stealing Haru, but Haru steals- borrows Makoto’s sweaters all the time and they’re certainly not sleeping together. And besides, this time it was honestly an accident he managed to find his way into one of Yamazaki’s sweaters.

“Okay, Makoto.” Yamazaki starts again. “What is it you’re studying as well as attending The Academy?”

“Uh- well, initially I was studying how to become a swim coach for younger kids after my experience volunteering at the ITSC Returns.” Makoto answers nervously. “But after enlisting at The Academy, I changed my subjects to focus more on fire science.”

“You’re a first-year Fire, right?”

Makoto nods. “And you’re second-year Police?”

Haru concentrates on his food to avoid turning back and forth during their conversation flying over the top of his head. He’s learning more about The Academy just by listening, but he’s certainly nowhere near ready to start joining in and talking about it – he hasn’t got a clue, and he’s becoming more and more curious by the day. And frustrated.

“Haru, you should come by The Academy one day.” Makoto beams towards him.

“I- It doesn’t really sound like the kind of place who’d accept visitors.” Haru mumbles around his mouthful.

“They cater to visitors. You can watch us train from the seating areas and join us for the slime they serve in the cafeteria.” Yamazaki pats down his pyjama bottom pockets and withdraws his phone which he rudely begins to go through at the table. Haru’s tempted to slap it out of his hands, however the Grandmotherly instinct diminishes quickly in the face of Yamazaki presenting a picture on his phone and pointing towards the screen. “See those seats up there? They’re for visitors and inspection officers alike, so don’t feel like you can’t come visit, if you can.”

Haru tilts his head and squints. True enough he can see the audience seating area, not unlike the lay out of the Olympic size swimming pool he’s been training in at his college, except where he would expect to see a pool, there’s a ginormous floor space. In the picture, Haru can make out who appear to be dog handling officers with a variety of different breed dogs sitting obediently at their handler’s feet. The stark white walls, bright lights, and sky blue flooring seems peaceful enough, but Haru knows from the conversations between Yamazaki and Makoto that the training performed there is far from it.

Lacking anything better to say, Haru takes hold of Yamazaki’s phone and flexes his fingers on the screen to zoom in on the closest dog in the picture. “So cute, and hardworking.”

Just as Yamazaki pulls his phone back to take a look at what Haru was referring to, Haru feels his finger drag across the screen, skipping to the next picture that looks a lot like a photo Yamazaki had taken of himself – a selfie he’s sure Nagisa called it – in his Police cadet uniform.

Oh.

Yamazaki looks at his screen.

Oh no.

Makoto also chooses to peek.

No, no, no.

The surprised, flustered expression that graces Makoto’s face quickly simmers down to a fierce blush. His bright green eyes flick back and forth between him and Yamazaki, whilst Yamazaki sits in contemplative silence, sifting through the photos on his phone for something to spend his attention on.

“Um...” Haru’s voice cracks as he tucks hair behind his ear and curls his sweater-covered fist under his chin. “So, when will you start training with the dogs?”

Yamazaki clears his throat before answering. “Next year I’ll be introduced to the dogs. For now, I’m happy to wear the protective gear and act as bait.”

“So that was you in the bite suit!” Makoto yelps, desperate to continue the change of subject. “That German Shepherd had you really hard by the arm, did it hurt?”

Haru sinks back against the wall behind him and tries to forget about the conversation happening over him, and the thick tension suddenly sprouting up from an honest mistake Haru hadn’t had the chance to explain before the two trainee servicemen had decided to take another trip down memory lane. It’s starting to get on Haru’s nerves. He’s certainly not the type to enjoy prolonged conversation, but when he has to sit and listening to The Academy over and over whilst having breakfast with two people he’d honestly like to have a conversation with about anything but The god damn Academy, it gets old fast.

“So, the pressure behind that fire hose-”

Haru slaps down his chopsticks and proceeds to pick up the empty dishes to carry to the kitchen. He’s rendered the conversation between Makoto and Yamazaki silent, and whilst he feels bad for acting little better than a tantrum throwing toddler, he’s certainly beyond done with listening to it.

“Thank you for breakfast.” Haru remembers to call back before he disappears into the kitchen and wishes there was a door to shut behind him. For the time being, he manages to absorb himself in methodically cleaning the dishes and chopsticks and setting them to dry on the rack beside the sink. He washes out the quiet voices trading back and forth in the living room with the running of the tap, the clink of bowls and plates, the clatter of chopsticks stacking one by one on the draining rack.

He’s behaving like a child, Haru knows, doesn’t care, turns his nose up at the very thought of having to apologise in sheer petulance. He’s sure the two of them are still sitting by the Kotatsu enjoying their wonderful conversation about their precious Academy and hoses and dogs and tight fitting uniforms with a little cleavage on show. Haru doesn’t need to sit there and listen to it, he wants to go to the pool.

He escapes down the hallway to his bedroom and picks up his swim bag from beside his desk. He turns back to the door, and promptly faces the wall of Tachibana. He moves further into Haru’s bedroom and shuts the door behind him.

“If you wanted to talk about something else, Haru, you could’ve struck up your own conversation.”

“At what point?” Haru huffs. “You both seemed pretty happy talking about The Academy. Non-stop.”

“Do you have any suggestions on what else I could talk to him about?”

“Anything else.”

Makoto sighs, rolling his eyes up to the ceiling before closing them tightly. “You’re being rude. And petty. What’s going on?”

“Nothing.”

“Then am I interrupting something?”

“No.” Haru shakes his head firmly. “It’s gross you think that since we’ve only been living together for 4 days, Makoto. I don’t do stuff like- … like what you’re implying. You should know better than anyone.”

“Okay,” The larger man glances over his shoulder to the door to ensure it had been properly closed. “Just to forewarn you, wearing his clothes and saying his selfies are cute is one hell of a way to-”

“Both those things were an accident.” Haru insists. “He took the phone away and my finger dragged across the screen. And I’ve already explained the sweater thing.”

“Just be honest with me, Haru.” Makoto steps closer and drops his voice. “Are you…”

Haru squints, bracing himself.

“Are you happy living with Sousuke-kun? He isn’t threatening or trying to hurt you-”

“No.”

“Then why are you acting like this?”

“I don’t know!” Haru finally blurts. He curls his hands into fists inside the sweater sleeves and curses quietly under his breath. “I don’t know, Makoto. I’m just- I’m so worried about you two. You talk about The Academy like it’s heaven on Earth, but when you show up with injuries, when Yamazaki comes home too tired to stand, I get so damn worried.”

“Haru.”

“And then you tell me the instructors spring surprise abuse training on the Police cadets- subjecting them to- and the bite suit. And your burns-”

“Hey, hey.” Makoto coos softly and places his hands on Haru’s trembling shoulders. “It’s okay, it’s fine, I promise.”

“No, it’s not.” Haru steps back, shrugging off Makoto and his burnt hand. “You’re both leading a dangerous second life, training up to risk yourselves for the public and I don’t know how to protect you.”

“You can’t protect us, Haru.”

“Exactly!”

The door behind Makoto clicks open so softly, Haru almost believes it’s the floorboards shifting under Makoto’s feet. The large backstroke swimmer shifts out of the way, glancing back as Yamazaki steps into the room and shuts the door behind him too- not that there’s anyone else to keep out left in the apartment.

Haru watches as Yamazaki comes closer, having graced them all by finally putting on fresh clothes. Haru needs to crane his head as he stands right in front of him just to look him in the eye. How Yamazaki managed to get taller escapes him since he’s fairly certain the man is hitting around 6ft 3 and the apartment ceilings are only so high.

Haru has flashbacks to the vending machine incident, but doesn’t get the same overwhelming panic that refuses him his ability to flee.

“Nanase Haruka.” Yamazaki glances off towards Makoto standing by the wardrobe staring into the back of his head. “Training has taught us there is a drastic difference between protecting, and taking care of someone. We are training to rescue and protect, but taking care of someone isn’t… we’re not being focused on that.”

Makoto seems to know where this is going, never mind Haru standing there with a confused grimace on his face. The large firefighter in training approaches Yamazaki’s side and slides a hand over his shoulder to show his understanding, that he agrees with what Yamazaki’s trying to say.

“There’s the preservation of life, then there’s making the life worth living. That’s not our job, Haru. What Sousuke means is, well…”

“Take care of us, Haru.” Yamazaki finishes. “You don’t need to protect us. We can do that ourselves, I mean, if we drop dead trying to protect someone, we fail our job, we fail the person we’re trying to protect, we leave them unprotected. We’re trying to keep ourselves safe just as much as we keep others safe.” The tender smile the tallest man produces almost knocks Haru back on his ass, but he manages to stabilise himself against the end of his bed. It’s something he’d expect to see on Makoto’s face, not the once stoic brute of Samezuka.

Instinctively, Haru reaches his hands towards the faces of the two men stood in his bedroom, curving his palms against powerful jawlines and carding his fingers through both choppy and graduated hair. He hears Makoto chuckle, feels Yamazaki grin, but squeezes his eyes shut as he draws them both in and wraps his arms around their broad shoulders.

“Ow- Haru.” Makoto is giggling, one of his large hands curling into the back of Haru’s sweater, the other is somewhere on Yamazaki, whilst Yamazaki buries his face into Haru’s neck and hugs him tight around the waist. “Were you really so worried about us?”

Haru can only nod from between the two large men and curl his fists into their thick heads of hair. It’s bliss here, he decides, an oasis in a parched desert. Makoto is the soothing water around him, and Yamazaki is the looming palms casting shade from the heat. He doesn’t want to let go, but he’s beginning to feel he’s overstaying his welcome. The piranha fish of anxiety are starting to circle around him, nipping at his toes and making him want to escape. It’s just as his grip loosens in the strands of hair between his fingers he feels Makoto’s arm slip down and slide across Yamazaki’s in the small of his back, pulling him in tighter as his face buries into the other side of his neck.

Haru blinks up at the ceiling and needs to take note of the position he’s found himself in. Two large men embracing him to the point his toes are barely touching the floor, their faces pushed into his neck, their strong arms wrapped around him, his back arched to accommodate them.

Shit.

“Sousuke, Makoto-”

“Just a little longer.” Makoto murmurs into the fabric of the borrowed sweater. “It’s warm here.”

“It’s too warm.” Haru complains.

“Take my damn sweater off, then.” Yamazaki’s voice is so low and rumbling Haru can’t stop the tremor streaking through his body. He gasps out of reflex and curls his fingers back into their hair, his vision swimming for but a moment before embarrassment overrides it.

“I will when I get to the pool.” He continues defiantly regardless of the dangerous situation. Yamazaki’s arm slips out from beneath Makoto’s and travels to the swim bag hanging from Haru’s shoulder. He pulls on the strap until Haru is forced to let go of his hair and let the bag slip off onto the floor. Haru glances down to it in annoyance, before his hand is being returned to its rightful place in Yamazaki’s hair.

“Hey-”

“Take care of us, Haru-chan.” Makoto mumbles.

“Don’t call me that. And don’t act like spoilt kids.”

“Don’t be so stingy with your affection, then.”

Haru frowns at what he can see of Yamazaki, before finally, he’s released from the clutches of the two large men. He rocks back onto his feet and can’t help but feel very proud of his handiwork ruffling their hair to the point Makoto needs to blow it out of his face. He smiles, taking in the rumpled clothing and basking in the two warm spots on his own neck slowly cooling.

“I’m not stingy.” He finally huffs.

“Uh-huh.” Yamazaki digs into his pocket and produces his keys with a jangle. “You’re headed to the pool, right? I don’t suppose you want company, do you?”

“I may have packed my swimming supplies since I intended on inviting Haru to swim today.” Makoto announces sheepishly.

“And I invested in some new leg skins since I’m able to swim again. Leisurely, that is.”

Haru closes his eyes and sighs. “You two are so annoying. Fine. You need your student passes to get in and some change for the lockers, but otherwise you’re good to go.”

“Thanks for the permission, Mama Haruka-chan.” Makoto beams and narrowly misses the annoyed swipe of Haru’s hand on his escape out of Haru’s bedroom. Yamazaki turns towards the door to gather up his own swimming supplies, when Haru reaches out and grabs him by the fingertips. He glances back, teal eyes curious and not so much the tiniest bit annoyed. It’s a patience Haru’s never seen before, and once again, the thought of what exactly happened for Yamazaki to ditch his attitude and become this gentle giant that only Rin must’ve seen until this point, occurs.

Haru knows a change of personality this drastic is born of only a handful of things, and most of them Haru doesn’t want to think about Yamazaki going through. He studies Yamazaki’s face for a moment, trying to find any sign of pain beneath his perfectly stoic features, but either there’s nothing to show, or Yamazaki is too damn good at hiding it.

“I want to take care of you. I mean it.” Haru confesses softly. “Just don’t take advantage of me.”

Yamazaki raises an eyebrow.

Phrasing, Haru.

“What I meant to say is…” He scratches anxiously at his neck, brings his sleeved hand to his mouth to bite at. “I’m not your mother. So, don’t treat me like her.”

A flash of something Haru can’t begin to explain passes behind Yamazaki’s teal eyes, something that kills the light within them for such a brief moment Haru’s almost certain it was a bird’s shadow cast through the window.

“Yeah.” Yamazaki’s voice sounds like gravel under bare feet. The smile he gives is empty, distant, false. “Don’t worry, I’m a big boy now.”

Haru watches Yamazaki leave, feels his fingers slip through his own, and the sudden chill that weaves around his body.

I said something wrong, Haru thinks. I struck a nerve.


	4. Chapter 4

When Sousuke had mentioned the make and model of his car, and that it was used for travelling up rural paths whilst in possession of his elderly Aunt, Haru had expected a regular looking 4x4 with maybe a roof rack and additional mirrors for a caravan – old people like caravans, right? What he discovers in the apartment building’s underground garage, is something that looks like it drove straight out of a Mad Max comic book.

There are four lights on the grill, as well as the headlights, and another two attached to the top of the windscreen. A large pipe is branching off from the engine, hugging the windscreen pillar that makes the car look like it has a snorkel. Yamazaki clarifies that Haru is pretty damn close to explaining its actual use with his description, and proceeds to talk about it as they climb “aboard”.

The tyres are massive, new, the tread barely marked as of yet. The roof is fabric, folded back for the summer, but the roll cage makes Haru feel he’s somewhat protected as he shuffles into the backseat and shuts the sturdy door behind him.

Haru doesn’t know why he’s so amazed the thing has doors, but the feeling lingers for at least half the journey to the college pool. Makoto had needed the leg room of the front seat, given there’s not much room in the back and Haru just about has the space to slump. Makoto and Yamazaki are enjoying their chat about the car whilst Haru looks around the interior that is remarkably clean – which also surprises him for some reason.

Yamazaki isn’t a messy person. He tidies up after himself and doesn’t complain about it either, so why should his car be any different? Haru drags his fingertips boredly over the old looking map book in the sleeve attached to the back of the driver’s seat, and pauses when something catches his eye. It’s shiny, colourful, and more than one, trapped between the pages of the years old map book. He digs his fingers into the gap in the pages and carefully slides whatever it is closer to the top of the pages when-

Oh.

He shoves the strip of condoms back between the pages and leans back in his seat to nervously gnaw on the sleeve of Yamazaki’s sweater, staring out the window to find something- anything to take his mind off his discovery.

“Are you okay, Haru?” Makoto calls from the front seat. “You’re not getting carsick, are you?”

“No.” Haru answers from behind his hand.

“You sure? You look flushed.”

“I can pull over if you need to? Plenty of public trashcans and bushes to puke in. Or on.” Yamazaki glances in his review mirror at Haru a few times, before concentrating back on the road.

“I’m fine. I just wanna get to the pool.” Haru insists, and the conversation is left with Makoto chuckling and nodding, agreeing that it’s been far too long since Haru got to swim since returning from Iwatobi.

It being a Saturday, the amount of kids attending the leisure centre is daunting, however they all seem to stick to the water slides and paddling pools, the fun side of the pool, whilst Haru leads the way to the Olympic sized swimming pool which has Haru’s name all over it.

He refuses to even look at Yamazaki since he knows as soon as he does, he’ll be staring at the man with little to no attention to spare for swimming. Makoto has toned up too, filling out his figure nicely with refined muscles, but Yamazaki? Not now. Not in a tight swimsuit.

The pool is empty. Haru casts his gaze across the glimmering water and blocks out the screaming and laughter of children on the other side of the vast leisure centre. The lifeguard had given them a nod before turning her attention back on the children after having recognised Haru from previous visits. She’d keep an eye on him, but ultimately had faith he was less likely to drown than the children forcing each other under the surface for fun.

“Am I the only one riled up by the smell of chlorine?” Yamazaki chuckles somewhere behind Haru, his feet silent along the pool’s edge.

“Nope, I’m super excited to be back in the pool after so long.” Makoto joins in. Haru remembers Makoto taking off the bandage covering his burnt wrist and applying the waterproof replacement he’d bought especially from the sports shop near the reception. Whilst catering to the college’s swim team, it’s also a commercial building to ensure the pool is paid for, for the sake of the college’s swim team. It’s both good and bad since it’s difficult to hear himself think over the sound of the public, but it’s a successful team because of the facilities paid for by said public.

“Sousuke, we should stretch before we jump in-”

Keep your eyes ahead, Haru.

“Yeah, you’re right. I’m so stiff-” Haru can hear the cracks and pops as Yamazaki stretches, and the short groan of effort that follows. “So tight.”

“Wow, yeah, I can feel it, Sousuke.”

Swim. Get in the water. Don’t look back.

Haru pauses. Since when did his best friend and ex-antagonist get him so rattled? Where did the desire to see the two men behind him as sexual beings come from? Where did his sexual desire come from? Puberty had come and gone and having forgotten to supply Haru with any sense of lust, had it nipped back briefly to install it? In that case, why now? Why Yamazaki and Makoto?

Pulling his swim goggles into place, he climbs the starting block and bends, bracing himself against it as he watches the clock on the other end of the pool tick closer to 12. It’s less of an engrained piece of training and more of a nervous tick, something that needs to be right before he can launch himself into the water and swim without care. It’s always been this way, and the one time a race started without the second hand hitting the 12, he’d half-assed it and severely pissed off Yamazaki back in middle school with his display.

Haru knows he has a diagnosed behavioural something or other, or two, but the less he thinks about it, the better. No one seems to care about his quirks, much less he himself.

“It’s only been two years since we last swam together, but it feels like an entire lifetime ago.” Yamazaki strains against his tight muscles.

15 seconds.

“After high school, we lost contact with you. We tried to ask Rin where you’d disappeared to, but he didn’t know either.”

10 seconds.

“Sorry to say he was lying to you.”

“Oh? I’m sure for good reason.”

“Yeah…”

2 seconds.

“My Mom died.”

Haru almost slips off the starting block and manages to catch himself just in time to spin around and tear off his swimming goggles. The threat of catching a glimpse of Yamazaki and it doing unspeakable things to him dies with a howling death scream as he looks between the larger swimmer, and Makoto. The look of utter shock Makoto is sporting is incredible, something Haru hasn’t seen since the day they’d watched the fishermen of Iwatobi dragging the dead from the ocean after the storm when they were very young.

Haru dumps his goggles and swimming cap by his feet and kneels to where Yamazaki is sat with his legs spread whilst stretching various areas by trying to lean forward in short lurches. Except he’s stopped moving. It’s like Yamazaki’s only just realised what he’s said, and is now deeply regretting it. Haru can’t let him wallow in that cesspool, and so sits in the space between Yamazaki’s legs and waits patiently for eye contact. It arrives, eventually, and Haru concentrates on it even as Makoto’s gaze burns into the side of his face.

“When did she..?” As the words trail off, Haru finally realises what had caused the empty look in Yamazaki’s eyes back in the apartment that morning. He remembers what he said. He curses himself under his breath and wishes he was wearing something he could pull up to his mouth and hide behind.

“Right before high school graduation. She’d been sick for a while. It was expected.” Yamazaki concentrates on the pattern of Haru’s swimsuit and sighs. “But, Dad just-… So, I ended up moving back home and attending the Academy a few days a week.”

“Sousuke, I’m so sorry.” Makoto finally utters. His voice is trembling, and Haru can hear the tears bubbling up in the back of his throat. “I understand it’s certainly none of our business, but why didn’t you tell us? We were worried about you.”

“It’s hardly a conversation starter, is it?” Yamazaki deadpans. “Rin only found out because Dad invited his Mom to the funeral since our mothers were pretty close friends. She of course told Rin, and we had a pretty huge argument.”

“I’m not surprised.” Haru wants to be angry, to display how annoyed he is with Yamazaki for not reaching out for support when he needed it most – but then, would Haru have been in any positon to offer it at the time? Before living together, Haru had been happy enough to kiss Yamazaki Sousuke goodbye and never see him again, so it’s questionable whether he would have been capable of caring. He knows how awful it sounds now, but Haru and Yamazaki didn’t leave things on a good note and both had been fine with it.

“You two made up, though, right?” Makoto frets.

“It was kinda hard not to when he broke into my house the morning of Mom’s funeral and drop-kicked me out of bed.”

“That made things up with you?” Haru grimaces at the very thought of Rin drop-kicking anyone, much less being woken up by it like some angel of vengeance reigning their wrath upon him. His sympathy for Yamazaki manages to reach deeper.

“My bed is pushed up against the wall, a wall with a window in it.” Yamazaki turns his hand over and points out a few fading scars on his palm and knuckles. “Broken glass hurts.”

“Jesus, Rin.” Makoto slides closer to Yamazaki to inspect the long-healed damage, but has this face on him like it’s still pouring blood. Haru meanwhile doesn’t understand why Rin being the cause of Sousuke’s suffering on the day of his mother’s funeral would make up their friendship, but the less he knows about how that relationship works, the better.

Yamazaki supposedly recognises the look on his face, and turns his attention away from Makoto fussing over his scars to answer the unasked question. “Since he’d caused me to put my fist through a window, he stopped yelling and started crying instead. Dad came upstairs and saw the blood and had to take me to hospital before going to the funeral. I had to miss it.”

“That’s awful.”

“It’s not, really. Dad found a letter from Mom under her pillow a couple days later whilst he was clearing the hospital equipment from their bedroom. She said she didn’t want me to attend the funeral, and to give me the letter instead.” Yamazaki’s voice cracks, he clears his throat and continues. “So, Rin unknowingly helped make one of her dying wishes a reality. Kinda wish it hadn’t required 18 stitches and finger being re-set, but I doubt Mom was all too fussed about that. I’ve always been susceptible to injury.” He chuckles.

Haru tilts his head and bows forward to get a good look at Yamazaki’s lowered face. Teal eyes flicker over to him, a wet sheen disappears as quick as he spotted it, and a crooked smile splits the butterfly swimmer’s lips. Yamazaki is an… incredibly good looking man, as is Makoto, but Yamazaki has sharp, masculine features, a strong nose, a powerful jawline, an intense stare from behind thick lashes. There’s a ruggedness to him Makoto certainly lacks, however that doesn’t mean Makoto is lacking compared to Yamazaki.

Far from it, Makoto has a different sense of masculinity. A more… gentle giant sort of handsomeness to contend with Yamazaki’s striking alternative. The tall, dark, and handsome pair who have been in his life for years, Makoto since birth, Yamazaki since middle school. And whilst Yamazaki has only been a pleasure to be around for the past 4 days, Makoto has been his rock his entire life. So why, pray tell, does his brain suddenly feel the need to introduce him to a whole new world of attraction towards these two large men?

“What did the letter say?” Haru asks softly.

“Haru, that’s none of our business.” Makoto snaps.

“I might tell you one day. It wouldn’t make sense to explain it now.” Yamazaki leans his face closer to Haru’s and raises an eyebrow before sending him a playful wink. “Nosy shit, didn’t you come here to swim?”

Haru frowns as he sits back on his haunches, ducking out of Yamazaki’s orbit regardless of his desires to veer closer. “You’d better not strain your shoulder.” He huffs, stands, and leaves the two large men to each other’s company whilst he takes a leisurely swim.


	5. Chapter 5

Haru is relieved to find out Yamazaki knows when he’s reached his limit. After a few laps of freestyle, one of butterfly, and a backstroke race with a reluctant Makoto, who loses, the raven-haired swimmer climbs out of the pool and sits on the poolside benches to rotate his shoulder slowly. Haru surfaces from the water and drapes his arms on the side to watch Yamazaki busy himself with his hopefully repaired shoulder. Makoto slaps the wall behind him, surfaces as he gasps for breath, and quietly curses.

“Damn it, I guess I’ll never be able to catch a dolphin like you, Haru.” He coughs as he ducks under the lane divider and hugs the side of the pool next to Haru. “I can’t believe you finished and still had time to relax before I even touched the wall. If I had an ego, it’d be pretty dented by now.”

Haru remains silent, keeping his eyes pinned firmly on Yamazaki on the bench.

“Hm? Haru, are you alright?”

“I don’t know.”

Makoto leans forward, trying to get a good look at Haru’s face. Haru takes the bait and glances back at the backstroke swimmer, studying Makoto’s docile expression, his full lips, his forever whimsical bright green eyes filled to the brim with care and devotion. 

“You were shocked when Sousuke talked about his Mom dying, right?” Makoto is keeping his voice down, but Haru can barely hear him over the roaring echo of children a distance away. “You know, I thought something must’ve happened to him for his behaviour to suddenly change-”

“Me too.” Haru stresses. “I thought the same thing.”

Makoto chuckles. “Great minds, huh? But, what if we were wrong? Sousuke said his mother’s death was “expected” and that she’d been “sick for a while”. What if his behaviour at middle school, and later on at high school, wasn’t just his overprotectiveness of Rin, what if it was because his Mom was sick? What if the Sousuke we’re seeing now, is the real Sousuke? The Sousuke Rin was only ever privy to?”

It’s a damn good point. Haru’s eyes widen, his head automatically nodding along to every last word coming out of Makoto’s mouth because it must be true. Rin wouldn’t make friends with a bully, especially when he was young, sweet, and innocent, so Yamazaki must have been sweet too at some point in the past, probably before his Mom got sick.

“You’re still worried about him, huh?”

Haru nods.

“He’s okay. And if at any point in the future he isn’t okay, then you’ll do something about it, right?” Makoto smiles brightly and nudges Haru with his foot underwater. “You’re such a softie.”

“Am not.”

“Are you two going to swim or keep making out down there?”

Haru and Makoto’s conversation quickly derails in the face of a visitor’s crude outburst, and Yamazaki drops everything to intervene, give this asshole a piece of his mind, when Haru spots the rowdy individual heading down the poolside.

“Kisumi?” Makoto gawps.

“Hey, Haruka, Makoto! Couldn’t help hear the murmurs going around the leisure centre you’d returned for a swim, Haruka. You’re a real celebrity around here nowadays.” Shigino Kisumi, a rising star in the basketball world, and… Haru realises he hasn’t got a clue what the guy is studying now, and whilst he feels bad about that, having his swim session interrupted by the peach headed giant is enough karma in motion. 

“I’m sure if Haru had his mouth above the water, he’d tell you he isn’t a celebrity, for which I’d disagree.” Makoto chuckles merrily, coils his leg around Haru’s under the surface and winks. Haru groans, his dismay bubbling in the water under his nose as he puts his hands back on the poolside to stabilise himself. He braces for Kisumi to drag Makoto from the pool and whisk him away like they were back in middle school, arm slung over his shoulder and a tongue stuck out towards him. 

Another roil of bubbles break the surface as he sighs bitterly at the thought.

“I had no idea you were back in Tokyo, Makoto. Though, I should’ve guessed since the Fire squad is back in training at The Academy, right?”

Haru feels the need to sink beneath the surface to avoid yet another long conversation about The Academy, featuring a brand-new participant, Shigino Kisumi. He isn’t sure if that makes the subject any more bearable. 

“As soon as you Paramedics come back for training, we’ll all feel a little safer.” Makoto’s smile beams up at the apparent Paramedic-in-training as he hauls himself from the water and sits on the side, one leg tucked under himself, his body twisted to gaze up at Kisumi. “You had an internship at the local hospital over summer, how did that go?”

Haru gazes past the two larger men to focus back on Yamazaki, who has remained impartial to the conversation drifting between Kisumi and Makoto. Which is surprising, considering the topic at hand. He appears to be patiently waiting, sprawled comfortably on the poolside bench with his towel draped over his wet hair. Teal eyes have been watching the chat over Haru’s head, then have eventually drifted down between the two bodies to where Haru is leaning on the lip of the pool. 

There’s a brief recoil, as if Haru caught Yamazaki doing something he shouldn’t, before a smile breaks out across his usually stoic face as he mimics a yawn with his hand. Which only triggers the real thing a few seconds later and causes Yamazaki to let out a gentle breathy groan in the aftermath.

Kisumi drops the conversation the moment he follows the noise and spots Sousuke in the bench alcove having completely blanked him up until then. He instantly bounds towards the man, arms thrown wide and pink hair fluttering in the trajectory. 

“Sousuke! You’re here too? Ah, this is the best day of my life!”

“Easy- I never left, man.” Yamazaki chuckles as the breath is knocked out of him. Kisumi shakes his head enthusiastically and buries his face into the meat of Yamazaki’s shoulder. Haru watches on. His insides feel like lead all over again as he plays audience to Kisumi’s over affectionate nature smothering a friend. He feels sick he can’t provide anything even close to that sort of attention. He feels bitter thoughts towards Kisumi for having the knack, for having the peppy vibe and free spirit to do as he pleases. He feels contempt. 

“Sousuke-chan,” Kisumi pouts, Haru can hear it in his voice regardless of Kisumi’s face being nestled against Yamazaki’s neck. “You’re such an ass, I know you didn’t leave Tokyo, but you’ve left me hanging for days. I’ve been texting you.” His voice drifts into a private tone, something he’s only ever heard between couples in the halls of college, or on TV. The lead in his stomach evolves into a black hole, sucking in light and pouring out putrid clouds of resentment. This isn’t something he’s ever felt before, it’s alien, it’s almost overwhelming in a sense he wants to reach out and push Kisumi away from Yamazaki. 

“Sorry, I was moving into my new place, then we had to introduce the first years into The Academy.”

“Shitty excuse. I’ve been at The Academy too, you know?”

“Pfft- yeah, on the other side of the campus. That’s a 20-minute drive, dude.” Yamazaki cringes the instant he says it, and Kisumi pulls himself out of the one-way hug with a huff.

“You have a car. Use it.” Kisumi playfully coils a strand of Yamazaki’s wet hair around his finger and hums. “Speaking of which, you got a minute?”

“Yeah, yeah, I was going to change anyway.” Yamazaki waves off the attention and stands to follow Kisumi along the poolside, back towards the changing rooms. He tosses a brief wave over his shoulder, and promises to meet them in reception in 10 minutes. Haru is still reeling from the gaping sore tearing wider inside of him. He presses his hands to the poolside to get out, when he slips and jars his elbow against the tile.

“Ah- Haru,” Makoto admonishes softly. “You’re still so lazy about getting out of the pool, come on.” He extends his hand, and Haru takes it to be hauled out onto somewhat dryland. 

He stares down the length of the pool, and catches the moment Kisumi slides into the changing rooms behind Yamazaki. Ice sears its way through his body. Realisation blooms across his face. 

“Haru, what’s wrong?” Makoto steps into his gaze, rendering his ability to watch the car crash any further. “You can get back in the pool for a little longer, if you want.”

“No.” Haru snaps. “I want to go home.”

“We have to wait for Sousuke-kun.” Makoto pauses, his lips falling slack as his brow pinches in concern. “Tell me what’s wrong.”

“Nothing.”

“I know that’s not true.”

“I said-”

“I heard what you said, Haru. But not what meant.”

“I said and I meant nothing!”

He growls to himself, spotting the lifeguard glancing over in their direction with an annoyed squint, which he shoves away. Makoto sighs, his wide shoulders sagging beneath the weight of his concern. Haru hates himself for putting Makoto through his shit, hates that he can’t explain what’s going on, why he’s suddenly so overcome with bitterness and resentment. 

“You know what they’re up to, right?” Makoto finally breathes into the piercing hum of water, pumps, and moving bodies around the leisure centre. “That’s what’s bothering you.”

“It’s Yamazaki’s life.” Haru bites back quickly. “I, nor anyone else, should be the one making decision for him. He’s old enough for this.”

“Old enough to know better?”

Haru bites his lip, damning Makoto’s inane ability to read between the lines.

“Nanase Haruka.” Makoto sighs, his green eyes showing a fond patience only he and his siblings have ever stumbled upon. He places his hand upon Haru’s shoulder and gives a soft squeeze. “You dipshit dolphin, you’re developing what’s called a crush.”

“A crush? That sounds painful.” Haru frowns at the finger that bops him on the nose.

“It can be. Right now, you’re feeling jealousy. Sure, Sousuke-kun and Kisumi are… close… but I wouldn’t say it’s romantic. In any case, Sousuke-kun didn’t look all too into it. And Kisumi just enjoys pressing his buttons.”

“Is that what you call it?” Haru grimaces. “Jealousy sucks. I’m going home.” He glances past Makoto’s shoulder and spots the moment Kisumi pulls Yamazaki out of the changing rooms and back towards the reception area. He frowns, tossing his hair from his face to distract himself from the peak of this jealousy shit. “I’ll take the train. You can wait for them to finish.”

“Ah- Haru!” Makoto stutters, but thankfully doesn’t try to keep Haru from leaving as he brushes past.

  
Getting home should have been easy enough, really. Hop on at the station a few minute’s walk from the leisure centre, change at central, then take the tram towards the apartment complex. A 25 minute journey on average. Today, however, the norm doesn’t apply.

“We apologise for the inconvenience caused by this delay. We are hoping to get power back into the train as soon as possible.”

Haru glances down the darkened carriage and sighs. He isn’t the type to search for someone to blame, single them out, and harass them, but the urge is particularly strong as he pulls his sleeves over his hands and waits. The train had just exited the tunnel from the underground and crested the gentle incline when it lost power and came to an abrupt stop. The driver had locked the brakes to ensure the train didn’t roll back, and Haru can hear them groan under the pressure beneath him. 

He isn’t sure whether he regrets taking the train yet, since the alternative was having to face Yamazaki in all his post-sex glory and that’s not something he can readily deal with, not since discovering his supposed “crush” on the man. Still, being at home beats being stuck in an empty train carriage which smells vaguely of cigarettes and piss.

Just as he makes to stand and pace the carriage, he feels his phone vibrate in the pouch pocket of his hoodie. It’s tempting to ignore it, since he’s almost certain it’s Makoto trying to figure out what’s gotten into Haru like he hadn’t figured it out already, but he checks it, just in case.

???: Hey. It’s Sousuke. Stole your number off Makoto. Stop ignoring his texts. He’s getting worried.

Haru frowns upon the words gracing his screen. Great, now Yamazaki has access to him at all times. It would be a shame to leave his phone at home more, or just turn the damn thing off since he really likes his own space and hates the idea of everyone being able to contact him whenever, wherever. 

Still, if Makoto is really starting to fret, he supposes that’s a dick move and he should correct the situation. Instead of tabbing out and texting Makoto back, he decides to respond to Yamazaki instead, after saving his number under his preferred nickname.

You: Sorry. I wasn’t ignoring them on purpose, the signal’s been bad.

He hits send, glancing at the signal bar in the top corner of his screen that continues to flicker between one and no bars. The repetitive error notification popping up on his upper screen is getting annoying – damn phone.

Whale Shark: He can see you haven’t read them, dumbass. Where are you?

You: I’m on the train. It broke down, though. So, I’m stuck here.

Whale Shark: Are you serious? Why didn’t you just stick around at the leisure centre?

You: I wanted to go home. You were busy.

Haru grimaces at the thought.

Whale Shark: Where are you?

You: Fuck knows. 

Haru peers out of the window, trying to get a better idea of where exactly he’s ended up. As he gazes past the trees reaching towards the track, he spots a sign just behind a chain link fence lined with barbwire. 

The Academy.

There’s a long row of what appear to be warehouses dotted alongside a well-used road which loops back on itself. The track, Haru’s sure he’s heard it be called. A skeletal building charred from top to bottom stands within the test track, far from the road itself, and the grass around it is dead. It must be for the fire service, setting controlled fires and teaching the recruits how to extinguish it…

He rolls his eyes and turns his back to it, pulling his legs up to his chest and concentrating on his phone.

Whale Shark: Very useful.

You: I think the train stopped by your precious Academy. I can see the sign through the window.

Whale Shark: Better, warmer. The Academy goes on for miles, you’ll need to be more specific.

You: I can see the test track and the burnt out building.

Whale Shark: Are they letting passengers off the train? 

You: And onto a live rail? Sure.

Haru glances down the carriage again, wondering if the rail engineers are even aware there’s anyone on the train, or at least in this carriage.

Whale Shark: Rude. I’ll come to the closest station to that side of the Academy. Just get off at the next stop.

You: No, don’t bother.

Whale Shark: Too late. Already in the car. Suck it.

Haru flinches at the pop up of a photo on their chat. It takes about a minute to load, in that time Haru has risen from his seat and started making his way down the carriage, when a selfie Yamazaki had taken of himself at the wheel of his car, giving the camera a middle finger, finishes loading. He snorts, flicks the picture off his screen, and moves to respond.

You: No thanks. Not a fan of Kisumi’s sloppy leftovers.

It’s bitter, it’s personal, it thrives on Haru’s resentment from the earlier realisation. He’s almost afraid of Yamazaki’s response, but of course, the response doesn’t come. And he hopes he doesn’t receive one either since Yamazaki is driving right now and shouldn’t be anywhere near his phone. It had been a nice distraction, but now he’s loathing the idea of Yamazaki reading his response – and what he plans to reply with.

Stupid, bitter Haru, he tells himself. 

Eventually, he returns to his seat and slumps across it, waiting as patiently as he can for the train to restart before his trickling exhaustion tempts him towards slumber.


	6. Chapter 6

“We apologise for the inconvenience caused by this delay. The train is being pulled to the next station by a recovery engine. We ask that passengers please leave the train at the next station. A replacement bus service has been provided at the exit of the station. Please show the driver your train ticket upon boarding the bus.”

Haru jolts from his dozing at the rather abrupt shunt of the train moving along the tracks. He grabs for the seat and looks around, panic rising in his chest as he realises there’s less light than before. For a moment he thinks the train must have slid back on the hill and re-entered the tunnel, however the orange streaks reaching through the trees relay the extent of time that has passed, since the other side of the train shows nothing but the night sky tinged with the warm glow of light pollution. Sunset. Haru grabs his phone from his pocket and checks the time, and instantly reels. 6 whole hours? As he straightens himself up in his seat, his foot knocks against something on the floor. Collecting a water bottle and bento from the floor, he pulls a note from the lid and unfolds it.

“Dear Passenger,

We apologise for the delay in this service to Central. Please take this meal as a sign of our gratitude for your continued patience.”

The note is printed, as if this situation was bound to occur at some point and they’d had the notes at hand. However, it’s the handwritten section at the bottom that relates to him more.

“I didn’t want to wake you since sleeping will make the time go faster! I checked that you were okay, and heard your phone going off like crazy! Someone’s worried about you, sir.

Take care,

Train Guard.”

“Shit.” Haru digs his hand into his pocket again and unlocks his phone. “36 missed calls from Orca, 13 missed calls from Whale Shark.” He curses quietly at himself as he rubs his bleary eyes and tries to focus on his phone screen illuminating the dark carriage. As the train has moved along the tracks at a running pace, it’s finally moved into a blocked signal zone, probably thanks to The Academy, he thinks bitterly and without reason.

Unable to call Yamazaki or Makoto, he goes through the messages instead, starting from the earlier ones with Makoto and making his way through until the messages take on a desperate and emotional tone. Eventually, they end in three messages;

Orca: Please pick up.

Orca: Please be okay.

Orca: Please respond.

Haru curls against his knees and covers his mouth with his hand as his anxiety ramps up. He’s made Makoto worry, and by the tone of his texts, it’s likely he’s been losing his mind over this, probably crying too. Haru can’t stand the thought. The last time Haru made Makoto upset, it’d taken him weeks to get over it, even after they’d made up, he still felt sick to his stomach and lost sleep. As much as he huffed and puffed, he dealt with conflict poorly.

Haru turns his attention to Yamazaki’s texts next, chewing anxiously on the cuff of the Academy sweater Yamazaki had been nice enough to give him, or too socially awkward to ask for it back.

Shit.

Haru had forgotten where the conversation had ended before he’d curled up for a nap on the train. He reads his last response and cringes at Kisumi’s name, cringes to the point his eyes squeeze shut at the ramifications of his blunt message, and finally scrolls down to see what Yamazaki had replied with.

Whale Shark: Makoto mentioned you were annoyed at Kisumi.

Whale Shark: And so, you’re annoyed at me too, right?

Whale Shark: Was it because I cut your swim session short, saying I wanted to leave?

Whale Shark: Or was it Kisumi dragging me off like that?

Haru hugs his knees tighter and continues to read, since he’s not entirely sure where Yamazaki’s intuition is going to lead him.

Whale Shark: Makoto said you guys went to school with Kisumi too. I had to deal with him as an elementary school brat, but you got him through puberty. I pray for your patience, dude.

Haru chuckles softly into the fabric of his sleeve and bites down on the cuff harder, feeling the threads grind between his teeth.

Whale Shark: You’re worrying Makoto. It’s been two hours. Pick up your phone.

Whale Shark: Dude, I’m serious. He’s shaking.

Whale Shark: I had to hug it out with Makoto, I hope you’re happy.

Whale Shark: You’d better hope your ass you’re just stuck in dead zone.

Whale Shark: Makoto didn’t know what “dead zone” meant and started crying before I told him it meant somewhere with no signal GET YOUR ASS HERE.

Whale Shark: HUMAN EMOTIONS AREN’T MY THING NANASE AND MAKOTO IS CRYING

Whale Shark: FUCK.

Whale Shark: Okay, talked to the staff inside the station and they said they’re pulling the train into the station. Makoto is happy again. I’m kicking your ass for this.

Haru scrolls down and comes face-to-face with a picture of Makoto sitting on the station steps cuddling with a cat that… has a hat on. He squints, zooming in on the picture, before scrolling for the caption.

Whale Shark: The station master here is a cat. Makoto loves his station master pussy.

Haru chokes, covers his mouth and turns his face away from the screen to compose himself. The carriage is empty around him, but he’s never been one to show great deals of emotion, lest he bring attention to himself.

The screen won’t scroll down further, bringing an end to the tirade of Yamazaki’s texts. It’s a gentle rain compared to Makoto’s monsoon of messages, but at least this one ends in a nice picture, regardless of the fact it was sent an hour ago. Makoto can end up playing with, cuddling, and cooing at cats for hours, so with any luck, that’s where they still are.

The train continues to roll at a lumbering pace until, around 5 minutes later, it arrives at its final destination for the night and opens its doors to allow the passengers off. His legs feel a little heavy, and his stomach is tight with hunger, but he’s not dumb enough to eat a bento box he didn’t prepare, sat out in a hot train car for 6 hours, festering. He takes the water bottle with him and puts the bento in the trash, lest someone else poisons themselves with it instead.

It’s not a station he’s been to before, and the handful of other people who climb off the train from the other carriages look just as mystified as they look around for the exit. Haru secures his swim bag over his shoulder and heads into the station building, where the air conditioning is running on full, even as the night begins to cool the muggy air.

9pm, the station clock displays above the ticket booths. It’s been 7 hours since he left the leisure centre. 7 hours of pure fear for Makoto. 7 hours of aggravation for Yamazaki. Haru feels the guilt yawning inside of him, overwhelming, threatening to break him in half and unleash his emotions in public, but he can’t let that happen just yet. It wasn’t his fault the train broke down, he tells himself.

He follows the other passengers through the turnstiles, which have been left unlocked by the guards to allow those migrating to the replacement bus service. Once he’s back outside, facing the carpark, he notices the steps he’s standing on were the ones Makoto had cuddled with the station master cat on, and suddenly his insides tighten at the very thought of Yamazaki and Makoto getting sick of waiting and heading home until Haru decided he wanted to text back.

He’s 5 seconds out from losing his breath and sinking to the floor like a wounded animal under his crushing anxiety when he hears a familiar voice back inside the train station building. It’s a rather large station house, with a 24 hour Lawsons, a few closed cafés, and a book shop. On the bench by the bookshop, Haru spots the two men he’d put through hell and back for the past 7 hours, apparently in the midst of an avid talk about Pocari Sweat versus Cola, and gesturing to their drinks. They appear to be fresh from a fridge, which answers the question where they had been when the train arrived, arm deep in Lawson’s drinks fridge.

“You drink so much of it, though. At least go for the sugar free version.”

“Those sweeteners are worse than sugar, I’ll have you know.”

“I’m sure your pancreas disagrees.”

Haru smiles from his spot by the station house doors and leans against a pillar in front of him. Watching Makoto and Yamazaki, two people who hadn’t talked more than a few sentences their entire lives until this point, bonding over their preferred drinks and their mutual concern for Haru.

“That diet shit gives me headaches. It’s the sweeteners. Anyway, you’re talking a lot of shit for someone drinking pocari sweat. Not as much sugar, but some serious salt content.” Yamazaki huffs and tips his head back for another sip.

“I guess we’re just as bad as each other, right?” Makoto smiles softly.

“I think I beat you both.” Haru steps out in front of the two and waves his bottle of water in their faces. “Healthiest option is water.”

“Haru!” Makoto cries out and just screws on the cap for his drink before launching himself at him. Haru braces himself and curls his arms around Makoto’s powerful waist, pulling in fistfuls of his flannel shirt and burying his face into his shoulder. “Haru, you’re okay. You’re really okay.”

“I’m fine, Makoto.”

“I don’t know what I would’ve done if something had happened.” Makoto murmurs into his neck. Haru closes his eyes and tugs Makoto closer, feels a hand slide into his hair and the other arm hug around his shoulders. It feels safe, comfortable, somewhere Haru can expose his vulnerabilities and not have to worry – the same as it’s always been.

“You mean you would’ve done more than cry and snot all over yourself? Jeez, don’t give him the opportunity, Nanase.” Yamazaki appears over Makoto’s shoulder, Haru can feel his shadow loom over them, blocking out the overhead lighting. Haru opens his eyes and peers up at Yamazaki.

“I did not snot.” Makoto huffs, turning them both so he can glare at Yamazaki, whilst Haru is forced to stare into the book shop where he learns they’ve had a sale on crime and thriller books, 50% off. How nice. “Sousuke’s just pissy because the station master cat hissed at him.”

Haru chuckles at Yamazaki’s annoyed expression, which he casts off elsewhere since he looks more embarrassed than anything, and reaches out for him. It takes a moment, but Yamazaki finally glances back and catches onto what Haru is silently asking for. He rolls his eyes, grumbles something about dealing with emotions, and stoops a little to wrap his arms around them both.

Just as he tightens his grip, Haru hears a short, cut off noise from Yamazaki before his right arm loosens around the dip of Haru’s spine. Haru manages to free his hand from Makoto’s back and presses it to Yamazaki’s chest instead, slides his fingers to his jaw, and pets the hair at the nape of his neck. The scars on Yamazaki’s shoulder tell a story of repair, but Haru can tell it’s still healing, still a sore spot if overexerted. It needs taking care of.

“Can we put this on hold until we get home, or something?” Yamazaki finally grumbles into Haru’s hair. “People are staring, and I’m almost certain that lady with the dog took a picture of us.”

Makoto chuckles in his sweet, soft tone and Haru glances up in time to see him knock his nose against Yamazaki’s. “Thanks for taking care of me today, Sousuke. I guess I still have a bit to learn when it comes to controlling my emotions.”

Yamazaki flinches back a little at the gesture, but doesn’t go too far. His cheeks colour so faintly Haru almost misses it, but since Haru is so avidly watching their exchange, not much is getting past him. “It’s not a problem. You’re not expected to separate your person life from your emotions. Just what you have to deal with on the job.” He shrugs awkwardly and lets go, stepping back from the two with a gentle expression. “Home?”

“It’s getting late, actually.”

“Did I ask what the time was?” Yamazaki frowns. “It’s still the weekend tomorrow, I’m sure you can stay the night. Borrow some of my stuff, I don’t care.”

Haru blinks and retrieves his arms from around Makoto’s waist as Yamazaki turns and makes his way out of the station and into the carpark outside. He glances at Makoto, who does little more than smile and shrug his bag higher up his shoulder.

The drive back to the apartment complex is almost completely silent, save for the radio playing something redundant in the background and the wind whistling through the drop top almost completely drowning it out. Haru finds himself in the back seat again, behind the driver’s seat, and his gaze naturally drifts back to the map book tucked into the pouch in front of him.

It’s no surprise there’s still a gap between the pages, and the condoms don’t appear to have moved, so… Haru wonders what he’s trying to figure out here. Maybe Yamazaki didn’t bring Kisumi back to his car to fuck. Maybe they’d gone around back of the leisure centre to have sex and, Haru prays, Kisumi had a condom on him there. Maybe they had come back to the car but, on a time limit, got each other off quickly without full-on intercourse.

Why does he fucking care?

How does it affect him if Yamazaki had sex with Kisumi? He has no right to feel like the cheated wife since it’s very much not his business, he’s very much single, and very much not in a relationship with Yamazaki. And yet he can’t shake the damn feeling.

The condoms in the map book is an ode to Yamazaki’s adulthood, proof he is, or had been at some point, sexually active. It’s the first time he’s been faced with such a blatant display of sexual paraphernalia, and whilst somewhat hidden, it’s certainly easy to find.

“Haru, you must be super hungry.”

He glances up from the map book and studies the way Makoto is twisted to tuck up against his seat and watch Haru in the back. Haru shrugs, pushing his hands deeper into the pouch of Yamazaki’s Academy hoodie.

“I’ll take that as a yes.” Makoto smiles. “I’ll cook-”

“No you won’t.” Haru snaps. “Don’t make me bring up the salt incident, Makoto.”

“Please, don’t.”

“So, please don’t cook. I’ll cook.”

“But you’ve just been through an ordeal, you can’t be expected to cook, and Yamazaki cooked breakfast.”

“How about we order in instead?” Haru leans forward and reaches his hand to ruffle Makoto’s hair, to try and keep his mind off today’s events since it’s been a total mess without a doubt. “We can have pizza or something.”

“What do you think, Sousuke? Is pizza good?”

There’s a lengthy silence from the driver’s seat. From what Haru can see in the rear-view mirror, Yamazaki is still concentrating on the road, but is lost in his own thoughts. Makoto sits up properly, manoeuvring his seatbelt to get a better look at Yamazaki’s face.

“Sousuke?”

“Hm?”

“Pizza?”

“What, now?” Yamazaki glances along the roadside to the stores open for business, before Makoto sooths him with a smile and a shake of his head.

“Order to the apartment, my treat.”

“Can I-”

“Yes, Haru, you can put your smoked mackerel on your own pizza.”

Haru rests back in his seat and returns Makoto’s joke eye-roll with a smirk.


	7. Chapter 7

Haru can feel the weight of it in his hoodie pocket. What the hell had made him think to do this? What made him work his fingers into the pages of the map book and gently pry a condom off from the rest and pocket it? It’s stealing, which is one thing, but it’s also weird as hell and now that Haru is sitting in his living room with Yamazaki and Makoto sat by the Kotatsu either side of him, it feels downright filthy. He’d love nothing more to jump back in time and slap his past-self’s hand away from the map book to avoid ever finding those condoms there, the consequences be damned.

The pizza has been and gone, the pit in Haru’s stomach has been filled and any content he felt has since been washed away by the perverse guilt he feels since rediscovering the foil packet in his pouch. He keeps his hands wedged inside, flicking a corner of the packet with his fingernail as he watches whatever crap movie Makoto asked to watch. Yamazaki is studying by the open balcony doors, and one of the stray cats has taken refuge in the cradle of his crossed legs to purr up a storm. He’d given it a few anchovies from his pizza, and instantly made a friend.

Haru leaves Makoto to his sappy film to exhaust the last of his emotions for the day and crawls over to Yamazaki and his dopey feline friend. Upon his approach, Yamazaki takes off his glasses and watches as Haru sprawls on his belly by his books and, careful to bookmark the page he was on, starts to thumb through it. 

“Don’t you ever have any studying of your own to do?” Yamazaki speaks softly to avoid invading on Makoto’s passionate preoccupation with his movie. 

“I study.” Haru frowns. He glances over his shoulder to his sketchbook on the Kotatsu, his ink pen wedged in the spiral spine, and uses his feet to grab a hold of it to bring it to his hand. He flips it open, and instantly regrets his decision when it reveals nothing but a blank page.

“Sure you do.” Yamazaki smirks.

“It’s a fresh sketchbook, screw you.” Haru picks up his pen and glances around for something to draw whilst Yamazaki returns to his books. Well, if Yamazaki wanted to see Haru study, then he’ll be sure to draw something only someone with a view like Haru can. He shuffles back to give Yamazaki his space again, and starts work on the basic shapes, keeping his strokes light and soft to avoid drawing away from the more detailed features later.

He follows curves and notches, creases in the limbs, the bold lines of intense shadows in the dimmed lighting. He fills the blackness with ink, flicks each individual tuft of fur, strand of hair, frayed thread. Tracing his pen along the strong lines of a powerful jaw, it’s only then he notices the subject’s supple lips and the red flush from being bitten in concentration. Haru glances back down to his drawing before Yamazaki spots his staring, and pulls his pen down the line of his throat, jutting out to make room for his Adam’s apple. 

Haru enjoys sketching live models, rather than bowls of fruit or other tedious shit like that. He’s thought this before, thought this the moment he and Yamazaki met again at the ITSC Returns when Haru noticed Yamazaki had finally grown into that huge head of his. But, Yamazaki has striking super model looks. He makes the actors and models he’s seen on TV or in the paper look like the average, and it’s any wonder Yamazaki hasn’t been hunted by model agencies even on his worst days.

Maybe he has, maybe Yamazaki is secretly full of himself, maybe he takes modelling jobs on the side to help pay for his education. Haru looks back up to Yamazaki, sitting there in his ripped Etsy-bought whale shark pyjama bottoms, pizza grease stained tank top, ruffled hair and crooked reading glasses… It’s highly unlikely this guy cares enough about his appearance to know the true beauty of it.

He wonders if Kisumi has ever told Yamazaki, if Rin punched him for attracting more people, if his parents bragged about his good looks at special occasions, if classmates confessed to him, if he got an abundance of valentine gifts. He wonders if he’s ever dated anyone, or if Kisumi is even considered a boyfriend at all. It’s likely they’ve kissed and had sex, but has Yamazaki ever been loved? 

Haru can’t relate. He’s been confessed to, sure. He’s had valentine gifts he’s given back since he isn’t much for holidays and sweets. He’s been kissed by a drunken Rin the night before he left for Australia, followed by a very sober, very sorry Rin apologising until he was blue in the face the next morning. He’d kissed Makoto too at high school graduation, a spur of the moment thing they’d both been too flustered to bring up again.

Then there was spin the bottle at Hallowe’en. Haru had earned himself a cut on his lip from Rei’s vampire teeth, and everyone else had been too drunk to remember.

That brings up another person for Yamazaki’s list, Haru thinks to himself as he recalls Nagisa, dressed as a tasteful witch, pouncing on Yamazaki the moment he sheepishly uttered “kiss” since everyone was too scared of Nagisa’s dares to take him up on them. Haru can still remember the flutter of a cape, the large hat flying off into the far corner of his living room, and a disgruntled Rei watching his boyfriend kiss another man.

Regardless, Nagisa had been truly enthusiastic to the point he managed to get the clip-on fangs off Yamazaki’s teeth with only his tongue and smudge the werewolf makeup on his face and limbs. Who knew the sweet innocent Nagisa had such raw talent for kissing, Rin had laughed at the time, whilst Yamazaki had to excuse himself to calm down.

Maybe that was the answer, maybe Yamazaki simply doesn’t cope well with physical affection, like kissing and hugging. He’s either disgusted by it, or so sensitive he tries his best to stay away from it to avoid an awkward situation. 

“How long are you planning on staring at me?”

Haru surfaces from his thoughts to discover Yamazaki watching him in return. His pen is poised above his notebook, as if reaching to jot something down, but his attention is fixed on him through his thick rimmed glasses. 

“It’s not a problem, I was just thinking of heading to bed, so you might want to bring a chair if you wanted to continue.”

“Shut up, I was drawing you.” Haru huffs.

“Me? Why sully your sketchbook with that shit, man?” Yamazaki doesn’t seem to be joking either. And thus, he has the answer to his question, that no Yamazaki is not aware of his breath takingly good looks, quite the opposite, actually. His confidence in himself appears to be at 0%, he appears to have no knowledge of his self-worth either.

“Again, shut up. You’re satisfying to draw.” He almost mutters to himself.

Yamazaki hums curiously and shuffles over to look down at Haru’s sketchbook where the sketch is nearing completion. Ignoring Yamazaki staring a hole into the back of his head, he picks up his white ink pen from the spine and adds the light in the two sets of eyes in the picture, the light glancing off Yamazaki’s glasses, and the white whiskers of the cat.

“Satisfying, huh?” 

“Yes.” Haru glances up at Yamazaki beside him and sighs. “You want me to be blunt with you?”

“Is there another way you interact?” Yamazaki takes off his glasses and hangs it from his collar. “Go for it.”

Haru braces himself, glances back over his shoulder to check on Makoto, who is still focused on his movie, then sits up properly to face Yamazaki head on. 

“Artistically speaking, you have strong features that are deemed as attractive by most standards. The proportions of your face, the thickness of your eyebrows and eyelashes, the build of your body...” Haru stops there, takes in the look on the man’s face, before pressing on. “You’re very good looking, in other words.”

“You need glasses.” Yamazaki responds with, slides his glasses off his collar, and presents them to Haru. “Try these.”

“I don’t need glasses.” Haru waves them out of his face and picks up the sketchbook to show Yamazaki his drawing. “This is what I see. This is what everyone sees.”

Yamazaki takes the hard-back sketchbook and slips his glasses back on to study it carefully. The stray cat is rubbing against Haru’s side, purring up a storm and tickling his whiskers along Haru’s wrist. It’s the same black cat who always climbs up the balconies for a meal, and it’s tempting to put a collar on him and keep him, but if the cat wanted to stay, it would.

“You’ve got a pretty good eye for detail.” Yamazaki murmurs softly. “You should go for better looking subjects though. I mean, Makoto is just over there.” He nods vaguely towards the enraptured fire-fighter-in-training at the Kotatsu and chuckles when even his name doesn’t rouse him.

“I won’t tell you to shut up again.” Haru snatches the sketchbook away and playfully bonks Yamazaki on the head with it. “You’re wrong about yourself, okay? I wish you’d believe me, but Rin constantly boasted about how stubborn you are and I don’t doubt him for a second.” He stands from the floor and watches as the black cat flees out the balcony doors, gathers his things, and turns towards the hallway leading to the bedrooms. 

He can hear Yamazaki do the same, and the footsteps follow him down the corridor.

“Hey, Nanase.”

Haru finishes placing his supplies on his desk and glances over to Yamazaki at his door.

“I’m sorry about what happened at the pool. When Kisumi gets something in his head, he’s a force to be reckoned with.”

“I really don’t need to hear about it. It’s fine.” Haru concentrates back on setting his sketchbook out straight on his desk, and lining up his stationary perfectly. “It’s your business.”

“He thinks he can drag me off whenever, wherever to put his skills to the test, like I’m his test dummy or something.” Yamazaki chuckles anxiously and scratches his neck. “Left me all kinds of sore today.”

“Please, stop. I don’t need to know.”

“Pretty sure the whole leisure centre heard it when-”

“Stop!” Haru snaps. Yamazaki closes his mouth and leans against the doorframe, his expression carefully neutral as he awaits Haru’s explanation.

“I don’t want to hear about you and Kisumi. I don’t need to know about you and him fucking in the leisure centre I train at-”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa- wait- fucking?” Yamazaki straightens up again, hands rising in a placating gesture, his stoutness vanishing in an instant. “What the fuck are you talking about?”

“I’m not dumb, Yamazaki. I saw the way Kisumi was looking at you, I heard the tone he held with you, I found the condoms in your car – I’m not stupid.”

“Condoms?” Yamazaki, for all his bare-face lying in high-school, seems genuinely shocked.

Haru sighs and rubs at his hair before going into his pocket and producing the blue shiny foil packet. “This and plenty others. I found them in the map-book behind your seat.”

Yamazaki slowly reaches out to it after crossing the border into Haru’s room, and plucks the packet from Haru’s delicate fingers. “The map-book?” He grumbles.

“Yes. The map-book. In the compartment behind the driver’s seat.”

“Oh.” Yamazaki blinks, before something sinks in. He drops the condom like it’s spit acid at him and backs out of the room. “Ah, gross! Mikoshiba, you bastard!”

“Mikoshiba?” Haru frowns.

“Mikoshiba Seijuro.” Yamazaki comes back into the room, skirting around the offending item so he can face Haru properly. “I borrowed the map-book off him at the beginning of first year and still haven’t returned it.”

“Do you think they’re his?”

“Well, they aren’t mine.” Yamazaki carefully pushes his foot close to it, then kicks the tiny packet out of the door and into the hallway. “They look like a size small.”

“I wasn’t looking that hard, honestly.” Haru looks back up to Yamazaki after the offending item is removed from the scene, kicked out the door like some fossilised dog turd. “So, you mean to say I’ve come to the wrong conclusion.”

“Yes.” Yamazaki leans back on Haru’s desk, and Haru tries to ignore the moment Yamazaki knocks his stationary off perfect alignment, but he ends up reaching to correct it anyway. “Kisumi is training with the paramedics at the Academy, but he spent the summer as an intern at the local hospital. He was based in the physiotherapy ward and was trained to help people who required physiotherapy.” Yamazaki rolls his head on his neck to look down at Haru in irritation. “Do you understand where I’m going here?”

“He took you away to help with your shoulder.” Haru slides his hand over his mouth and closes his eyes to avoid facing Yamazaki’s annoyance.

“Help is pushing it. He wrenched it back so hard I thought I saw Buddha.”

“Are you okay?” Haru lets go of his mouth and looks at Yamazaki’s shoulder, which doesn’t appear swollen or bruised, thankfully.

“Yeah. Believe it or not, he did help. Making sure I stretch out the tendon after exerting it is important, but I think Kisumi was trying to pull up an anchor or something the way he was tugging on it.” He rolls his shoulder slowly in the socket, Haru can hear it click with every rotation.

“I see.”

“Yeah, big difference between physio and fucking, Nanase. But I wouldn’t expect a virgin like you to understand.” Yamazaki doesn’t so much as flinch at Haru’s annoyed poke in the ribs, just laughs at his expense and folds his arms. “So, that’s the reason you got all pissy?”

“Get out of my room.” Haru deadpans. 

“This whole day was screwed over because you stomped off in a huff, Haru. Don’t you think I deserve a little explanation?” 

He tenses slightly at the use of his first name, as if Yamazaki is truly scolding him for being a misbehaving child. He’s unsure how to react to that.

“I want to know why you reacted the way you did.” His tone has dropped, Haru can almost feel his voice rumble through his chest like the thick bass of a nightclub. Haru swallows anxiously and occupies his time adjusting the pens on his desk again since Yamazaki seems so adamant to knock them off kilter. It isn’t a sultry tone Yamazaki is intending to use, but his voice can’t help but give that impression since it has this growl at the end that always takes Haru by surprise.

“Have you and Kisumi had a falling out? He seemed pretty happy to see you.” Ah, Haru understands now. This is the voice Yamazaki uses when dealing with personal matters, a hush voice to avoid anyone eavesdropping, to instil a sense of calm, of trust. Haru doesn’t know about that just yet, but the worst of his anxieties certainly trickle away.

“It’s okay, Yamazaki. It’s nothing to worry about.” Haru concentrates on Yamazaki’s face and sighs, reaching a hand to lay upon his powerful bicep to squeeze softly. “I just got annoyed by it, I shouldn’t have. Even if you had been fucking Kisumi-”

“Which I wasn’t.”

“But even if you had, it’s none of my business.”

Yamazaki shrugs and unfolds his arms to push himself off the desk and head towards the door. “I don’t know. I’d prefer you to tell me if I did something to annoy you. I’m not whipped by any standards, but I’m not an asshole either.”

“Not anymore, no.”

Yamazaki flicks his middle finger over his shoulder and moves to exit when Makoto pops up in the doorway.

“Um.” The man appears flustered, looking anywhere but at the two apartment tenants as he fumbles with something in his hand. “I believe this belongs to one of you?” 

Haru tenses as Makoto brandishes the condom in his hand at Yamazaki, who takes one look at it and shrugs. 

“Ask Nanase, it’s a size small.” With that, he waves them both goodnight and disappears into his bedroom, leaving Makoto and Haru to stare at the condom helplessly.


	8. Chapter 8

  
“Yamazaki said you were crying.”

“Hm?”

“He was texting me whilst I was asleep on the broken-down train. I didn’t read any of your messages until the train started moving towards the station, and by that point the signal went on my phone.” Haru clears his throat and pushes his bedroom window open wider, seeking all he can of the cooling summer night breeze. “He said you were crying.”

“Oh.” Makoto hunkers down deeper into the opposite side of Haru’s double bed and pulls his blanket up to his shoulder. “Yeah, I made an absolute ass of myself in front of him. Then he climbed out of the car, opened the passenger’s door and hugged me. I don’t know for how long, but he pet my hair and cradled me like a little kid. It felt amazing, but I feel so stupid about it now.”

“He sent me texts because he was panicking about you.” Haru lays on his back and stares at the ceiling. “I think you shifted his emotional constipation when he wasn’t ready.”

“Haru, stop, I feel bad enough already.” Makoto sighs. “Honestly, though, I’m surprised he and Kisumi aren’t together- or having sex at least. It’s like Sousuke is completely unaware of his-”

“Strikingly good looks.”

“Right!” Makoto nods as he sits up and gazes down at Haru. “And Kisumi is hardly subtle with his advances, but maybe that’s just how Kisumi is, a bit of a flirt.”

Haru rolls his eyes to stare at a poster on the wall and tamps down his urge to tell Makoto just how big of a flirt Kisumi actually is, ask Makoto how he’s so blind to it.

“I tried to tell, Yamazaki… That he’s good looking.” Haru glances briefly at Makoto looming over him, his emerald eyes wide with shock and tawny hair a tussled mess. “What? He thought I was teasing him, it’s not like he believed me.”

“But, you meant it.”

“Yeah.” 

Makoto bites his lip and looks over at the bedroom door as he fidgets anxiously with the sheets. He has something to say, or on his mind at least, and Haru observes as the subject progresses back and forth from mind to the tip of Makoto’s tongue until he finally speaks.

“Would you ever consider talking to Sousuke about your feelings? Aside from telling him he’s “attractive by most standards”.” The backstroke swimmer gives him a stiff look. Haru rolls his eyes back to the ceiling.

“So, you were listening.”

“I did try to go home to make sure you and Sousuke got time to talk, but…” Makoto looks down to the borrowed t-shirt and pyjama bottoms and Haru can only guess whose boxers those are underneath. “Then I put on that sappy movie.”

“Makoto, Yamazaki and I aren’t moved by chick flicks. That’s your and Rin’s thing. We got so bored we started studying.”

“But, it got you to talk, at least. It got you to tell Sousuke you think he’s attractive.” Makoto winks cheekily and pulls his hair out of his face. “And I doubt you would’ve learnt the truth about Kisumi if you’d avoided him.”

Haru shrugs awkwardly against the mattress and turns over to face away from his best friend. He feels Makoto’s body shift closer, a hand on his shoulder, a face pressing against the hair at the nape of his neck, a murmur of disappointment. Haru likes to think being away from Nagisa would have stopped Makoto from adopting similar mannerisms, but here he is, being rubbed by Makoto’s soft locks and hard skull. 

“Stop.” 

“Haru.” 

He closes his eyes and sighs as he turns onto his back and glares at Makoto for his childish behaviour. “What?” He grunts.

“Go to him.” Makoto whispers.

“What are you talking about?” Haru figures Makoto is quoting a line from the movie at him or something since he’s not making much sense otherwise.

“You’re my best friend in the whole wide world, Haru. I want you to be happy, and I want you to make other people as happy as you’ve made me.” Makoto seems to realise what he’s said and flushes to his ears. “I mean, I’ve told you many times before, but, I love you.”

“Hnn.” Haru goes to turn back over, when Makoto pulls him back gently by the arm. 

“I want you to take a chance.” The larger man snaps. “I want you to let go of my hand, Haru, and take Sousuke’s instead.”

“No.” Haru pulls his wrist away and shuffles to sit up against the pillows. “It won’t mean the same as it does with you, you know that.”

“Of course I do.” Makoto smiles patiently and lifts a hand to Haru’s face, his thumb glancing off the jut of Haru’s soft jawline. Haru squeezes his eyes shut and swallows thickly.

“What if I can’t choose?”

“Choose?” Makoto enquires. 

“Between you and him. What if I don’t want to choose. Is that selfish?”

“Haru.”

“What if I want you both?”

Makoto’s hand stops, his eyes widening in shock as he stares at the fierceness of Haru’s blue eyes anchoring him to one point in the darkness. Haru holds his gaze, or at the very least tries to, since he’s never been able to maintain eye contact for too long before his chest tightens and his eyes flit away. 

“My relationship with Yamazaki has been difficult from the start. Personalities, interests, whatever, it’s all too similar between us to avoid conflict, especially where Rin is involved.” Haru tucks his legs under him and kneels closer to Makoto to rest his head against his broad shoulder. “But he’s changed. He has this patient understanding that makes me feel safe. He makes this apartment a quiet, calm, and secure place in this hectic city.” 

“It’s only been a few days, but I can sense the change in the air. Instead of the stiff silence from when you were living by yourself, I can sense a difference. It’s like wind chimes, Haru.” Makoto strokes his fingers through Haru’s hair and presses his cheek to his temple. “I never thought you and Sousuke would end up together like this, let alone you would develop feelings for him.”

“Makoto.” Haru pulls his face up from Makoto’s shoulder and forces himself to make eye contact, to give Makoto the attention he deserves, that the situation warrants. “What I said about Yamazaki, about the patience, the calm, the secure.”

Makoto tilts his head curiously, but nods regardless.

“I’ve only ever seen all this in one other person. And that’s you.” Haru hears Makoto make a gentle noise in the back of his throat, as if he’s holding back a bursting damn of emotions. Haru takes pride on probably being right. He wonders how much it’ll take to weaken Makoto’s efforts, to release the torrent splitting at the seams. Whilst it’s tempting to poke his buttons, he wants to be sure he means every word that comes from his lips, he wants to be sure there will be no apologies, no regrets later. No going back.

“I’ve never said it back, since I’ve always been so speechless when you say it to me. The first time you said it, I witnessed such a massive wave of emotions I felt like crying. I’ve never understood emotions, I’ve always struggled to connect the words in the dictionary to the sensations running through me… But, I know, for certain, that I love you too, Makoto.”

Makoto lifts his hand to his mouth and furrows his brows as his eyes shimmer, threatening to overspill with tears. 

“Whenever I’m faced with a situation, I ask myself, how would a normal person react to this? But my reaction to you is my own. I never feel the need to label whatever feeling comes into my chest, I just enjoy it instead. The good and the bad.”

“Haru.” Makoto chokes and reaches out his hands for Haru to take a hold of. “Do you feel the same way about Sousuke?”

“Given the chance, I think so, yeah.” Haru smiles softly and lets go of one of Makoto’s hands long enough to wipe his tears from his face. “Haven’t cried enough today? Forget fire trucks, your tears alone could put out house fires.”

“You’re probably right. What a dull super power.” Makoto chuckles wetly and leans forward to playfully knock his nose against Haru’s. “It’s your fault, anyway.”

“You did the same thing to Yamazaki back at the train station.”

“Hm?” Makoto blinks.

“You touched noses with him.” Haru tilts his head slightly to touches noses again, and tips his chin forward to kiss him once, lightly, on the lips. “Did you want to kiss him?”

“Yeah.” Makoto’s voice is rough, Haru can feels his fingers quivering against his own, until they let go and slide to his waist. “I… I guess I can’t really deny it. I’ve wanted to get closer to Sousuke for a while since he was so distant in high school. I know that doesn’t mean much since none of us looked that hard for him after graduation, but still…” Makoto shrugs and sighs out an anxious breath. “At the station, I was so relieved, I… I think I understand how you feel.”

Haru stares up at Makoto with eyes filled with curiosity, hope. If Makoto feels anything like Haru does for Yamazaki, there may be a chance of the confusing ball of emotions ravaging Haru’s insides finally making sense.

“I felt safe. I felt secure. I felt calm. And, though we were in a busy train station, I think I sensed that quiet you referred to as well.” Makoto hesitates, lips pressing shut and attention flitting away to the bedside table. “This… isn’t natural, is it?”

“I wouldn’t know what natural feels like. All I know is that it doesn’t feel bad.”

“It feels right.”

Haru nods patiently, observing the side of Makoto’s face until the man meets his gaze again. “But you were willing to step down for my sake. You told me to “go to him” like casting your own feelings aside was easy.” Haru shakes his head. “It may never happen, but it’s worth trying at least, right?”

“Right.” Makoto chuckles softly. “Whilst our relationship – our bond¬ – is solid, neither of us have the first clue about Sousuke’s feelings, or if he’s even interested in something like this.”

“You said it was about taking a chance, right?” Haru climbs off the bed and drags Makoto up to follow him. The journey between rooms isn’t a grand distance by any means, but crossing the border into Yamazaki’s room feels like entering unchartered territory. It’s not like he’s never been in this room, given it was empty the last three months of last year, but he’s never step foot in it under Yamazaki’s ownership.

The squeak in the door is gone, which instantly explains why he’d seen Yamazaki cross the living room into the hallway with a can of industrial lubricant the other day. There’s not a single light on in the darkness, besides the tiniest flash of an LED on Yamazaki’s phone on the bedside table showing he has a notification of some sort. It feels perverse being in his room with no permission, he feels like a child again, sneaking out of his room at night to pet and feed the stray cats on the porch whilst Grandma slept.

Here, the consequences are certainly more severe, especially if Yamazaki chooses this moment to revert to his old high school self and lose his shit with them for being weird. It would be warranted, but Haru would still rather not be shouted at.

It’s hard to see the personal touches Yamazaki has made to this once barren room, but from what scarce moonlight there is peaking through the bottom of the shutters, he can make out the double bed pushed up against the wall, the bedside table, and the wardrobe all down one end of the room. A random light from behind him suddenly illuminates what’s left of the room, and he quickly realises it’s Makoto’s phone screen pointed to help find their way.

It illuminates a bookcase, a freestanding coat rack with several pressed sets of police uniforms, a yoga mat, and a collection of dumbbells ranging from heavy to heavy as shit. Haru doubts he could lift the lightest of the bunch without herniating something first.

Then there’s the ginormous plush whale shark. Haru fixates on it, laid out on the end of Yamazaki’s bed, almost willing to ignore the man whose feet it’s cushioning for the chance to cuddle the shit out of it. Haru instantly wants to rush back to his room and grab his over-sized dolphin plush so they can be friends, but quickly realises how weird that would actually be.

Speaking of weird, how exactly are they going to do this? It’s not much of an ice breaker, more like an iceberg nuke to drop on someone in a half-sleep state. He glances at Makoto’s silhouette in the darkness and slides his hand down to curl their fingers together, hoping for a little guidance and yet finding none since they’re trying to keep quiet, and Haru can’t see shit, let alone Makoto’s face.

Haru takes a deep breath and decides to just- go for it. He climbs onto the end of the bed, scoots around the giant whale shark plush to slide into the space between Yamazaki and the wall, whilst Makoto takes the other side of Yamazaki. Once situated under the multitude of thin blankets covering the bed, Haru and Makoto loop their arms around the sleeping gentle giant and bury their faces into the nearest crevice. Haru’s almost jealous Makoto gets to cuddle into Yamazaki’s back, since Haru has always been fascinated by the hairline on the back of the man’s neck, and the powerful build of his lower back muscles. 

Swimming butterfly had toned Yamazaki’s body to an extent, but whatever Yamazaki is doing now is resulting in true art. 

Just as he’s about to nuzzle further into Yamazaki’s chest, they both lock up at the feel of Yamazaki shifting between them, inhaling deeply through his nose and limbs clicking as he moves his arms.

“Y’both have a nightmare or s’methin’?” The deep, half-asleep voice rumbles. Haru feels an arm wriggle under his side and hook around his waist, and can see the other reaching back to Makoto’s thigh to curl behind the knee. Makoto swallows down a noise and buries himself further against Yamazaki’s back to drape his cradled thigh against one of Yamazaki’s. 

The patient understanding. The calm and the quiet. The safe place. Haru smiles softly in amusement and slides the back of his fingers along Yamazaki’s jaw and down his neck, counting the seconds it takes before the sandwiched man ticks his face away from the attention, but he’s left counting into minutes.

“Sousuke?” Makoto eventually whispers into the silence. Yamazaki hums in response, as if he’d been mere seconds away from falling asleep again, but doesn’t seem all that fussed by the disturbance. Instead, he turns his face towards Makoto, his eyes still shut, acknowledging at least.

“We don’t want to leave your side.” He finally finishes.

“I noticed.” Yamazaki grumbles, brushing his thumbs over Haru’s ribs and Makoto’s knee in a gentle caress. 

“No- I- uh.” Makoto squirms again, ducking his face out of view from what Haru can tell is an attempt to smother how sensitive he is in places. Since Makoto is distracted, Haru takes on the task of relaying their intentions to the larger man. And, since he has the best angle from where he’s laid out, he takes the initiative to push himself up slightly, tilt Yamazaki’s chin back down towards him, and press their lips together.

If Yamazaki is shocked, he certainly doesn’t show it. He patiently waits for Haru to retract before finally opening his eyes and observing the two men either side of him with an air of calm, as if this is a nightly occurrence. As his teal gaze shifts to Makoto behind him, the backstroke swimmer finally shifts forward for a kiss too, a fleeting touch of the lips to relay Makoto’s intentions are much the same as Haru’s.

Haru and Makoto sit up to get a better read on Yamazaki’s reaction to their wordless proposal, leaving the man to sprawl into the empty spaces left either side of him. 

“This is…” Yamazaki grimaces, scrubs his eyes and pushes his hair from his face. “This is a dream.”

“Unfortunately not.” Makoto quips gently. 

“You say it like it’s a bad thing.” The police-officer-in-training looks back up to them and sighs. “I’m surprised, is all.”

Haru huffs. “Are you? You’re deserving of affection just as much as anyone else. You shouldn’t find that hard to believe.”

“Mn-well, must mean something if it’s coming from you, Nanase.” Yamazaki yawns and digs his head back in the pillows, trying to get a better look at them. Haru can imagine he’s checking they’re not a pair of incubi slithering into his sheets to suck out his semen and disappear off into the night. He pauses, feeling Yamazaki’s palm caress higher up his thigh until the tips of his fingers tease beneath the hem of his sleeping shorts. If he keeps that up, he might just be right, Haru thinks sordidly. 

“Believe it, Yamazaki.”

He glances down the drawn back sheets tangled around his and Makoto’s hips and takes in the dishevelled folds of Yamazaki’s pyjamas hitched up and wriggled down from sleepy movements. What Haru had been too concerned to look at earlier at the leisure centre is unveiled in the gaps in his clothing. His stomach, his chest, his Adonis belt and sharp hip bones. He can see so much of Yamazaki’s chest already, it’s any wonder why he even bothers with the stringy tank top, it seems to be for more suggestive functions than the usual pyjama outfit. 

Haru certainly can’t deny enjoying the sight of Makoto’s pecs peeking through collars, or sheepishly displayed at swim-meets, however adding another pair to the equation, to be attacked from both sides like this, is completely unfair.

Makoto slides into view as he lowers himself down to Yamazaki’s side and curls his arm across the exposed skin of Yamazaki’s waist. Within a few seconds, with one glance from Makoto’s emerald eyes piercing through the darkness, Haru knows where this situation is to be lead. As he descends to lay on the sheets of Yamazaki’s other side, pressed between the large man and the wall, he gently cards his fingers over the folds of Yamazaki’s pyjama pants and drags his index deftly around what both he and Makoto hope to uncover fairly soon.

Haru’s read enough yaoi, watched enough porn, to know most of what he’s doing, and being a guy himself proves very useful in the process of arousing another. The hand which had tried to sneak under his shorts earlier has migrated to his hair, twirling tresses of black beneath hardened fingers as Haru shifts forward and trails sucking kisses down Yamazaki’s neck.

The response is artistic. He keeps an eye open to watch the tendons of Yamazaki’s neck protrude as his head rocks back against the pillows. His supple lips fall open as his body writhes, and Haru can hear Makoto’s efforts as they attack the man from both sides, their lips breaking and tongues glancing off the freshly washed skin of Yamazaki’s neck. Haru drapes his thigh over Yamazaki’s waist and feels the clench and release of powerful muscles reacting to the attention around his throat. Haru pushes himself against the sensation, pushes against the hand Makoto has pressed to Yamazaki’s hip, and breathes out his pleasure.

Makoto ducks under Yamazaki’s thrown back chin and traces his lips over the swell of his Adam’s apple to reach Haru and peck the corner of his saliva slicked mouth. Haru pushes himself up against his hand and steals more of Makoto’s lips, follows him as he tries to lean back and catch his balance, climbs onto Yamazaki’s hips and pulls Makoto back. Makoto releases a sultry moan into Haru’s mouth and slides his large hands under Haru’s baggy sleeping-shirt to flick his thumbs across his nipples. Haru jumps, grabs Makoto’s hands and forces them to squeeze his pecs tight.

“Makoto.” Haru bites his lip and arches into the larger man as his cock stirs between his squirming thighs.

“Haru,” Makoto whispers between kisses and softly pries his hands out from under Haru’s grip and t-shirt. His fingers trail to Haru’s waistband instead to gently thumb along the elastic until his fingertips breach the barrier and curve around the shape of his ass. “I want to hear you call out our names so much.” 

Haru tries to respond, tries to get a word out as Makoto curls his spare hand into his hair and pulls his head back to bite across his throat, but he’s overwhelmed. Yamazaki is in the same position they’d left him in, watching with avid teal eyes as he strokes himself slowly over his whale shark pyjama pants. Haru squeezes one eye shut as Makoto sucks his earlobe, but watches Yamazaki long enough to take in the sight of his hardened fingers lightly tracing the outline of his erection.

It's huge.

Haru shudders and pushes Makoto back to glance between them. He’s seen it plenty of times, but only ever flaccid mid-change before and after swim sessions. And the only time he could have seen Makoto’s erection, it’d been fiercely covered by an incredibly flustered Makoto after Nagisa had shoved an explicit doujinshi under his nose, and taken home with him.

In fact, both situations Haru could have seen both Makoto and Yamazaki’s erections were down to Nagisa’s doing. In Yamazaki’s case, he had been ground against and kissed and groped until he had no hope of reprieve. 

Here, he likes to believe he’s the culprit for their desire. And boy, is it one hell of a desire. Makoto’s cock is almost as big as Yamazaki’s, and in comparison, doable. Yamazaki’s cock had made his knees quiver, Makoto’s had made his mouth water.

“I want to. I want to call out your names.” Haru finally responds, before the air is knocked out of him as Makoto kneels up and pushes him against the wall Yamazaki’s bed is flushed with. Makoto kisses him hard, opened mouthed, tongues heavy between their teeth, hard dicks straining through damp fabric to grind together in a sultry rhythm. Haru feels the mattress shift somewhere, but ignores it in favour of a pair hands pinning his arms above his head against the wall- and yet…

His eyes flutter open as Makoto’s hands grab him harder by the ass and slips a finger to glide back and forth over his sensitive pucker. He’s met with the sight of Yamazaki looming over Makoto’s shoulder, his arms extended over them to keep Haru’s hands restrained to the wall, his whole body flush with Makoto’s. Haru flicks his gaze to his best friend and watches Makoto split his thighs and push his ass back against Yamazaki’s hips. He spots the fabric of Makoto’s pyjama bottoms have been pulled down to his thighs, and the slick, glistening skin of Yamazaki’s cock nestled between his ass cheeks. Haru’s insides clench at the sight, his cock slips free of his sleeping shorts and catches against the soft, loose fabric of Makoto’s borrowed t-shirt. 

“Sousuke.” Makoto tips his head back and reaches over his shoulder to card a hand through raven hair as Yamazaki undulates his hips forward, grinding this thick cock into Makoto’s ass crack and smearing his skin with pre-come. Haru swallows loudly and keeps eye contact with Yamazaki, feeling Makoto’s cock twitch against his own as he gets more and more aroused by the cock sliding over his hole. 

Haru finally shifts his position, digging his knees harder into the mattress and the tops of his shoulders into the wall to tilt his hips forward enough for Makoto’s cock to push between his own ass cheeks with a wet slide.

“Ah- Haru, yes.” Makoto mewls, his hips rolling between the two sensations. “I want to put it in.” His finger smooths over Haru’s hole again, before teasing it open just enough around the tip of his finger. Haru trembles and pulls his t-shirt up to his teeth to bite and keep out of the way so Makoto can see his honest reaction beneath his clothing. The way his cock strains up towards Makoto relays very little of the sheer intensity of Haru’s desire, which only increases as Makoto begins to push and drag his finger slowly inside him.

“Nanase,” Yamazaki begins as he slides his hands down Haru’s arms and caresses his waist instead. “The window ledge, behind the shutters. Grab the black bottle.” His voice is rough, breathless, his gaze stern, before his eyes fall shut and his hips buck forward. “Hurry up, or I’m gonna come all over Makoto’s back.

“Shit, Sousuke.” Makoto quivers.

Haru blindly reaches his hand behind the shutters and curls his fingers around something to bring into view. By some miracle, it’s exactly what Yamazaki wants. It’s taken from him in an instant with a thank-you muffled against Makoto’s broad back. After a moment and a click, Makoto startles and grabs for Haru’s thighs either side of him. Haru bites his lip, watching Makoto’s face as he’s breached by Yamazaki’s fingers and stretched open.

“Yamazaki,” Haru whispers against Makoto’s slack lips. “Finger me too. Makoto’s too sensitive to move.” 

Not a moment later, Makoto releases a pitiful noise and sinks against Haru’s shoulder, his breaths trembling and hot across his skin. He watches as Yamazaki retrieves his slick-dripping fingers and sees them gesture towards the bed.

“Makoto, lie down on your back.” Yamazaki wipes sweat from his forehead with his clean hand and shuffles out of the way as Makoto does as he’s told. “Legs open wide. That’s it.” Haru can see his slightly relaxed hole clenching in protest, yearning for something to slide back into it. He breathes out stiffly and concentrates back on Yamazaki. 

“Nanase.” His voice drops dangerously, a shiver bolts down Haru’s spine as Yamazaki veers closer and cages him against the wall with his thick arms. “All-fours on top of Makoto. Ass to me.” 

Haru nods, his limbs trembling as he crawls out from Yamazaki’s orbit and situates himself above Makoto. He gazes down to his best friend and touches his face, his neck, his arms, down to the bandage wrapped around his wrist. Now that they’re in the situation, the implications washing away with the rushing current of need and lust, he kisses Makoto’s burn, tracing his lips over the plastic-backed bandage which smells strongly of chlorine.

“Haruka-chan.” Makoto frees his wrist and slips his hands down Haru’s sides and back to his ass, and one look over his shoulder tells Haru there’s a reason Makoto pulls his ass open. Just as Makoto’s expression contorts with pleasure, Haru feels a hot, wet muscle slither over his hole, and push in.

He gasps out and grabs the pillows beneath Makoto’s head, his whole body jolts into the sensation, mouth slack, his spine curling towards the attention. He reaches one hand back steadily and smooths his fingers through black hair and down to that amazing hairline at the nape of Yamazaki’s neck.

He can’t say he hasn’t played with himself before, or explored his backside in means of pleasure and found what he was after, but this- this is something else entirely. Haru moans wistfully as Yamazaki’s tongue lathes up and down his crack, and yanks on the man’s hair to lead his tongue back to where it felt best. He isn’t left disappointed. 

“Ah- Yamazaki.” Haru tilts his head back and swallows.

“Call him Sousuke.” Makoto bites out through grit teeth. Haru widens his legs over Makoto and drops his head back down to meet Makoto’s cloudy gaze. “Please, please call each other by your given names.”

“I don’t think Sousuke can say much at all, right now.” Haru jests as he complies with Makoto’s request. His breathy exhale of Yamazaki’s given name clearly has an effect on Makoto, who closes his eyes and bites his lip tight against the twitch of his lower muscles. He keeps his forehead pressed to Makoto’s and takes in long, deep breaths, inhaling as Makoto exhales sharply between his teeth. 


End file.
